Death is not the End
by DarkDaisies
Summary: Ron begged Harry to take care of Hermione for him...somehow, I don't think this is what he had in mind. - EWE, slightly AU I suppose... rated M - language, sexual situations, violence, mentions of non-con. - Disclaimer - I'm not as awesome as JK Rowling therefore all recognisable characters are hers.
1. Ain't Gonna Go To Hell For Anybody

**Author's Note: All chapter titles belong to Bob Dylan...or yannow...whoever else wrote his songs, obviously not me.**

* * *

Chapter 1 - Ain't Gonna Go To Hell For Anybody

* * *

"Not bloody likely." In an undertone the words were spoken, hidden behind a particularly pale hand, concealing the smirk which accompanied it.

The young man's father continued pacing; rattling off inconsequential facts as if his surly son had not interrupted him. Casually he tossed the parchment onto the regal conference table, watching for the signs of explosion he expected, disappointed when it was denied, even a passing interest.

"...ninety days from today..." The young man shoved his platinum hair from his eyes, absorbing the last few words spoken by his father.

"What's that now?" He realised with angst, he had missed something important, the very thing his future depended upon, while contemplating his escape from his father's house.

"Were you not listening? This is important! Our future depends upon this!" Insolently the young man shrugged, arching his eyebrow in defiance. He stood suddenly, prepared to whisk himself out of the place he once called home.

"Father. Can you move it along a bit? I'm to meet Theo.." His father scowled with ease, as he always had done. His brow furrowed with displeasure, his hands clutching his ivory handled cane in anger.

"Daphne Greengrass. Her father and I have solidified your marriage contract. You're to be wed. Three months from today."

"You're fucking insane. That's not bloody happening. The contract was void! Astoria died! I'm free and clear!" The pale face flushed angrily, his chest heaving with fury. His father stalked across the room, slapping him soundly across the cheek.

"Must you?" He said it half-heartedly. It was never _his_ job to correct his son and part of him still resented being forced into it now. "We've enacted the clause. The fine print you never could be bothered to put forth the effort to read. Since Astoria..." He paused out of respect, "passed..most unfortunately, her father has decreed Daphne shall complete our agreement."

"Father. You can't. Mother..."

"Your mother is gone, Draco. Therefore, I have acquiesced to this match. Prepare yourself." A flourish of long platinum hair, identical to his son's strode from the drawing room of Malfoy Manor.

Draco Malfoy stumbled from his childhood home, riddled with anxiety and even fury. He found himself wandering through a grove of trees, gazing in sadness toward the top of the small grass covered hill. A headstone stood underneath the largest tree. He had never visited it, unable to face the horrid truth. It would make everything real if he saw his mother's name on the headstone. She wasn't there. Draco knew she wasn't there. He didn't know where she was, but he knew, in the depths of his cold, empty heart, his mother wasn't there. He found himself stepping toward the worn path, his fists clenching, unwilling to follow through. He spun quickly on his heel, Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron. If he ever needed a drink, it was now.

* * *

"THEN! He bloody said I'm to marry fucking Daphne Greengrass." Theo Nott nodded, his eyes on the door, used to such tirades from his oldest friend. They had never been close when they attended Hogwarts, but war changes people. He took a swig from the bottle of firewhisky gripped in his calloused hand.

"Thought it was void and all being Astoria..."

"That's what I said! Apparently! They've forged some new bullshit and I'm going to be bloody stuck with her! For life. Can't even kill her. Or myself for that matter." Draco's forehead lay against the bar, his red rimmed eyes hidden from view. He slammed his glass next to him, not even flinching when the glass shattered, shards striking his downcast cheek.

"Blood bond then? For life?" Theo found himself mildly interested, his dark eyes darkening in mirth.

"Of course!" Draco groaned in horror. He felt a hard thump on his back, still refusing to lift his head.

"Malfoy." Blaise Zabini took the stool next to Draco, snickering, while his right arm never left the waist of the tall, pretty brunette witch beside him.

"Zabini. Fuck off."

"Take it he's heard the news then?" Blaise snickered again, waving over the bartender.

"Blaise. Don't mock him too much. He doesn't know about us yet." The soft, decidedly feminine voice caused Draco Malfoy's pounding head to lift, his bleary eyes meeting those of Daphne Greengrass.

"Know what about you?" His words were slurred yet even in his haze, he would gladly grasp any straws which removed Daphne Greengrass from his future. Theo slipped off his stool, subtly making his way toward the door once his eyes fastened on the person he truly wished to see. He stopped short, his eyes wide upon seeing the dark haired witch shaking the raindrops from her black cloak.

"Dec. What on earth are we doing here?" The pretty witch surveyed the room with a critical eye, her amber eyes the trio at the bar. "These are you friends? Really? Malfoy?"

"As my very best friend, you promised no judgment, Sweetie. Don't forget now. Even you can't deny Malfoy is a delicious specimen of the male persuasion." The exceedingly tall, muscular brunette wiggled his eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkling, as he placed his companions hand in the crook of his arm, squeezing gently. "Remember..."

"I haven't forgotten. Not a word. Promise." She smiled, her plush pink lips upturned easily.

"This? This is your bloody fucking best friend? Seriously? Dec!" Theo Nott sputtered. Of all the people he had expected to see standing before him, this particular witch was definitely not it. He wasn't expecting the pang of jealousy as he watched her grip his boyfriend's arm nor their conspiratorial giggle.

Declan Rosier shrugged with nonchalance, silently soaring as he witnessed the blatant jealousy present in his secret lover's dark eyes. He slid past Theo, heading directly toward the bar, a half smile breaching the corner of his rugged mouth.

"He calls you Dec?" The tiny witch at his side pulled his neck, forcing him to lean toward her so she could reach his ears.

"Even with your heels you're incredibly tiny." He ignored her, "Bet you're a bloody load of fun against a wall..." Declan winked as the flush crept up her face, her mouth dropped open in pseudo rage. She was fully prepared to slap his incorrigible face, but spying Theo, she smiled demurely, kissing Declan's cheek instead, sipping the glass of wine before her.

"What the holy fuck is Granger doing here? Haven't I suffered enough today?" Draco groaned into his empty glass of firewhisky, pleading for her to be a mirage.

"She's actually not that bad, Malfoy. I mean, don't ask me to admit it to her face or anything." Blaise Zabini's glanced across the bar, while entwined around Daphne Greengrass, her fingers mussing his dark hair.

"I like her. Even you have to admit she looks good."

"It was never her looks that were the problem." Draco grumbled, missing the mischievous glint flicker in Daphne's eyes even as Blaise groaned.

"Really now?" Blaise had half a mind to escape while he could, yet the devious side of him was quite interested in hearing Draco's response to Daphne's inquiry.

"Well yeah, she's alright to look at I suppose. Quite attractive really, but you have to admit she's bloody obnoxious." Draco's eyes roved the little Gryffindor's tiny form with appreciation which was not lost on his companions.

"Your aversion to her has nothing to do with her blood then?"

"Nah, I mean, I could lie and say it did, would that make you feel better? No? Alright then, it's nothing to do with her blood, it was always simply a convenient slur and I did so love to stir up a bit of trouble during our school days." Blaise continued to refill Draco's goblet with ice water, hoping to sober the poor bloke while he rambled.

"You're not averse to dating her then?" Daphne's long fingers caressed the sleeve of Draco's rumpled dress shirt.

"Dating her? Could you imagine the look on my father's face? Granger's brilliant of course, but even I wouldn't wish that on her. She'd talk me to death before I ever managed to snog her, let alone shag her."

"That's not a no, Malfoy." Daphne tossed her dark hair over her shoulder with a smirk before hopping off Blaise's lap. She rounded Blaise, Draco and Theo to sit next to Hermione Granger. Without asking permission, Daphne Greengrass, ran her hand over the smoothly coifed hair next to her.

"Daphne!" Hermione Granger never expected to find herself surrounded by Syltherin's nor enjoying their company. Part of her wondered if Ron Weasley was rolling in his grave, but the other part of her knew he'd want her to be happy. Hermione leapt from her stool, her arms thrown around the striking Slytherin.

"How is our Honorary Ravenclaw? I see Declan spared no expense..." Daphne laughed, taking in Hermione Granger's flawless appearance. The short, dark blue dress hugged the petite witch's curves, accentuating all her assets. The normally unruly mop of golden brown curls was softened, twisted upon her head. Even Daphne had to admit, Hermione looked absolutely smashing. Hermione laughed, used to the gentle ribbing of the pureblood. It was easier for them to pretend she wasn't the Gryffindor Princess nor one of the two remaining members of the Golden Trio, after-all, she was the brightest witch of their age.

"Honorary Ravenclaw now? Really? Last week it was Honorary Slytherin." From the corner of her eye she saw Draco Malfoy's eyes narrow at her mention of the previous week, but he wasn't glowering at her which made Hermione feel a bit wary.

"Of course. Last week Dec dressed you in green. Just don't sport Hufflepuff colours and we'll be just fine." Daphne winked, poking Declan in his ribs. He rolled his eyes, unappreciative of the limits set on his creative genius.

"Th'fuck last week?" Draco shoved Blaise, causing his own stool to rock precariously. Blaise shrugged, instead watching Theo Nott's jaw clench in misplaced anger.

"Declan's ok. Had him over, he brought Granger. Slow down, Malfoy. We've got reservations." Blaise downed the remnants of his friend's drink quickly with an easy smile.

"You're bloody...friends with...with...her?" If he hadn't known it would completely enrage Draco, Blaise would have let the chuckle in his chest escape at the incredulous expression painted across Draco's face.

"Nah. Daphne is though. Seems really fond of her."

"Wait. I'm going to wind up...seeing bloody Granger? All the bloody time? I'm going to find a way to kill her."

"Granger?"

"No. Daphne."

"Keep your fucking hands off my wife, Malfoy." Blaise cringed. Daphne had begged him to keep their secret until after dinner. His temper was always getting the best of him where she was concerned. Inwardly he groaned, knowing this wasn't going to end well, for anyone. The squeals across the bar informed Blaise his wife was incapable of keeping secrets as well.

* * *

"Malfoy's father is gonna kill him." Theo Nott stood next to Declan "Dec" Rosier, as they observed Hermione Granger and Daphne Zabini hold each other hands, jumping on the stone floor. Hermione grabbed Daphne's hand, her mouth agape at the size of the emerald and diamond ring on her friend's finger.

"Why?" Declan whispered, his breath brushing Nott's earlobe lightly. Theo stepped away, determined to keep his distance.

"Blood Contract was signed."

"Shit." Hermione took in Declan and Theo attempting to ignore the intensity between them and winked.

"You told her?!" Theo wished the floor would open and swallow him, his heart hammering.

"Hello! It's so bloody obvious." Declan rolled his eyes, leaving Nott behind as he kissed Daphne's cheek, murmuring congratulations. Theo growled, grateful the noise of the pub hid his moment of weakness. He ambled over to Blaise, thrusting his hand out in expectation.

"When Malfoy's father kills him, you'll help me bury him eh?" Theo winked, smiling broadly as Blaise's level of comfort plummeted.

"Food." Draco Malfoy shoved off his bar stool, wobbling slightly in his inebriated state before pushing through the crowds to head into the alley.

"Malfoy's leaving!" Blaise shouted across the crowded pub at his new wife, who was still engaged in gushing with Hermione. She nodded, pulling Hermione to her, weaving through the throngs of inebriated witches and wizards. Blaise followed close behind, leaving Theo Nott and Declan Rosier to follow.

Draco Malfoy leaned against the brick wall, his head hanging to his chest, his wand dangling at his fingertips, incapable of tapping the bricks correctly in his current state. Blaise rolled his big brown eyes, shoving Draco to the side, tapping the bricks with his wand. He reached behind him, disengaging his wife from Hermione to lead them into Diagon Alley.

Hermione smiled as the newlyweds hands swung while walking down the cobblestone. She hung back, letting Declan have his moment with Theo. She saw their hands brush lightly, her heart surging, mingled with the slightest twinge of pain. When Declan shoved Theo against the Leaky Cauldron's back door, she decided it was time to make her exit. A small part of her wondered if she should drag Malfoy with her, but she decided against it, it was Malfoy after-all.

They might have been forced to be civil with each other as they passed through the halls of the Ministry, however such civility was not required outside of the workplace and neither of them was apt to change it.

Draco's bleary eyes opened slightly, squinting at the scene before him. He shook his head trying to focus on the figures snogging. He was certain one of them was Dec but Granger was wearing some blue thing and this person was…

"Merlin's beard..Nott? Th'fuck?" He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the images burning into them. Theo shoved Declan, spinning around, fear etched in his dark eyes. Declan crossed his bulky arms, watching the scene unfold, unwilling to smooth it over once again.

"Draco, it's...it's not..." Theo stuttered, wiping a clammy hand across his mouth, his eyes begging Declan to come to his rescue.

"Declan! Granger's going to kill you." Theo tilted his head, confused by his friend's exclamation.

"Technically, Theo's my date, you realise." An uncustomary sound emanated from Draco's throat, reminiscent of laughter, but Declan was sure he was wrong in his assumption.

"Really?" Declan raised a singular eyebrow, his sky blue eyes never leaving Theo Nott, part of him reveling in his angst.

"You brought bloody Granger. Blaise and Daphne are obviously shagging or married or whatever they are. My father's going to bloody murder me you realise? So, by default, Theo is my bloody date. Don't get any ideas. I'm not _ever_ snogging you, Nott." Draco nodded, quite proud with himself for forming such coherent sentences.

"You knew?" Theo gasped, slightly in horror but also in relief, his secret life was weighing on him greatly.

"Have to be bloody blind." Draco smirked, "Dec. You stole my date! You wouldn't like it if I bloody snogged your date now would you?!" Theo snorted, smiling openly at Declan Rosier for the first time. Declan's forefinger rested on the side of his chin, his blue eyes skyward.

"Go right ahead, Malfoy." Declan raised his eyebrows in silent challenge. Draco baulked with a grimace, causing Declan and Theo to laugh.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day Draco Malfoy refuses a dare. Anything really is possible!" Theo doubled over in laughter, tears glistening on his cheeks in the moonlight, in mirth as well as relief.

"Today's not that day, Nott." Draco Malfoy spun on his heel unsteadily, taking a moment to regain his balance before rushing down Diagon Alley, searching for the swaying hips in the dark blue dress.

"Shit. What did you do, Dec? He's really going to snog her!" Theo gasped, grasping Declan's lapel. Declan shrugged, pecking Theo quickly on the cheek before following Malfoy.

"Please, they've so much bloody tension I could cut it with a knife." Declan tossed the words over his shoulder, not waiting for Theo to catch up. He could hear the stumbling footsteps behind him. He spied Blaise and Daphne turning the corner, Hermione just behind them, glancing behind her.

She stopped suddenly with surprise as Draco ran up to her. She looked past him to see Declan and Theo sprinting hand in hand. Her hands came together in pleasure, a smile lighting her face, before she found herself wedged between a solid brick wall and Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy. What are you playing at?" Hermione tried to sound bored, yet she was anything but. Even after all these years, he still scared her a bit. It was those icy pools of steel grey eyes, not to mention his consistent displeasure with her presence.

Even in his drunken haze, he had to admit she was pretty. Not the usual sort of witch he spent his nights with, but pretty just the same. His throat felt dry even after being more than adequately lubricated with his libations.

He decided to blame it on her. It was her fault. If she had just kept a better eye on her date, he wouldn't have had to accept this bloody ridiculous challenge. His father had drilled it into his head from the time he could walk that Malfoy's always rose to the occasion. It was irrelevant if it happened to be displeasing since Malfoy's never displayed weakness.

Those damn adorable freckles splattered across her upturned nose. Those damn long eyelashes, hiding her golden brown eyes, usually filled with disdain for him were searching his face for an answer. Her lips were moving but he couldn't hear her words. Her hands came up, pushing against his chest, trying to wriggle away from him, but he pressed closer. As his head lowered towards her, Hermione squeaked in surprise, looking to Declan and Theo for assistance even as their mouths gaped.

Draco's left hand grasped the back of her neck, forcing her to look at him. Hermione hiked up the bottom of her short blue dress, her fingertips touching the tip of her wand, until her wrist was in his grip, raised over her head and pinned to the wall. He smirked, capturing her lips with his own.

_*Fuck.*_ Draco's head was spinning while teasing the mouth beneath him. _*They're so bloody soft.*_ He hadn't intended to go this far. He assumed Theo would step in before it got this far, but now that he was actually snogging Hermione Granger, he felt consumed by her. He didn't want to like it, he didn't want to feel anything, but he was rebelling against himself.

He had simply intended to press his lips to hers for a moment, yet instead, he teased her bottom lip, drawing it between his teeth. She gasped at the unexpected forwardness. He eagerly sought entrance, his tongue gently touching hers, while he pulled her closer. He released her wrist, his hand ghosting down her side to grasp her hip.

Hermione couldn't form coherent thoughts. She was vaguely aware of a gaping mouthed Declan, but she couldn't focus on him when Draco Malfoy's solid chest was pressed into her. The brick behind her kept her still and in a moment of recklessness, she responded to the gentle prodding. Her mouth opened wider, allowing him complete access, her tongue entwined with his, their breaths hitched. His fingers dug into her hip, her body flush against his.  
When Draco's arm came around her waist, her hands were instantly in his hair, threading through the silken strands, leaning into him. She heard hurried footsteps next to her, but her eyes had closed as Malfoy groaned lightly into her mouth.

He tore himself away from her lips to allow his tongue to dance upon the smooth skin of her neck, to allow his teeth to scrape her pulse point, to draw her earlobe into the warm depths of his mouth. He lightly fingered the hem of her tight blue dress, the tips of his fingers slipping beneath it. He drew her leg over his hip, grinding into her while peppering her throat with love bites.

As much as Draco Malfoy did not wish to admit it to himself, he wanted her, Hermione Granger. She was soft and supple beneath his hands, her back arching as he suckled her bottom lip, nipping it gently. He was amazed by her responsiveness. The tiny pants and whimpers escaping her plump lips were almost his undoing.

He never bothered to snog the slags he brought home, but this was different. Draco cupped her face in his hands, kissing her smattering of freckles before returning to her lips. He didn't know whether it was the effects of the copious amounts of firewhisky he had consumed or Granger herself, but he didn't want to stop. He wanted to stand against the cold brick and snog Hermione Granger until he couldn't breathe and he hated himself for it.

"Should we...intervene?" Theo whispered to Declan, unable to take his eyes off the couple in front of them. He plucked the sleeve of Declan's shirt; his heart ricocheting in his chest the moment Malfoy's hands began kneading Granger's arse.

"I didn't think he'd..."

"Me either...I don't know what to do with this. Where's Blaise?" Declan gave Theo's hand a slight squeeze in reassurance.

"What the hell?!" Blaise skidded to a halt, causing Daphne to crash into him.

"Aww. I think it's cute." Daphne's dark eyes sparkled and Blaise knew she was plotting.

"Oi! Malfoy! We're late." The entwined couple ignored Blaise's declaration, their snogging long past verging on indecency. They were practically shagging against the brick wall.

"Fuck off." The guttural reply escaped between fervent kisses while Blaise stood stunned by the display.

"Malfoy. It's your father." The cold, fear of his father halted him cold. He wrenched his lips from hers and rested his forehead against Hermione's, his eyes closed.

"Sweet Salazar." Hermione removed her hands tangled in his hair, her chest heaving. Draco opened his eyes, boring into hers with indecision. He released her, spinning around and walking quickly down Diagon Alley. Blaise and Daphne chased after him, leading him toward the eatery. Declan gave Theo a gentle shove and with regret, Theo followed his friends.

"What the hell was that Declan?" Hermione's trembling hand rose to her swollen lips, her knees suddenly weak. Declan spied Lucius Malfoy moving swiftly in their direction. With a muttered curse, he embraced Hermione quickly, hoping they would be passed unnoticed. Lucius Malfoy's lip curled at them, but to their great relief, said nothing. Declan released his friend, dragging her toward the restaurant.

"Malfoy caught us snogging and got lippy. Didn't think he'd do it. Really." Hermione had to run to keep up with Declan's long strides. "Can't tell me you didn't bloody enjoy it though, can you Sweetie?" He winked, holding the door open for her smugly as she didn't reply.

* * *

Draco watched her picking at her dinner as he sat across from her, irritated with the conversation around him. He knew she wasn't paying attention which irked him further.

"Earth to Granger." Hermione dropped the fork poised in front of her mouth, her eyes widening in alarm. "You're the smart one, why haven't you thrown in a solution then? Can't be any worse than Theo's." Blaise and Daphne snorted. Declan patted Theo's hand, snarling at Malfoy.

"Theo's suggestion was absolutely valid, Malfoy. Just because you don't wish to speak to the Minister doesn't make it any less so."

"You haven't got anything better, have you?"

"Better than petitioning the Minister? Not bloody likely but there's always Polyjuice." Hermione's voice was small in comparison to her companions, but they all turned to her regardless. She squirmed uncomfortable with the scrutiny but forced herself to continue. "It's your only option since you're being exceedingly stubborn. The Blood Contract doesn't specify it has to be Daphne Greengrass, which is quite impossible now that she and Blaise have eloped." Hermione kept her eyes focused on the plate of sweets before her, instead of meeting the grey orbs locked on her lips.

"Go on then..." Draco prodded, honestly finding himself curious with her proposal.

"Well, you've got three months to find someone you don't completely detest and to agree to your terms. Never mind the fact you'll have to be bonded to her for life, there isn't an infidelity clause so you'd be free to bed as many slags as you'd like. There is however a consummation clause as well as one for an heir, so you'd definitely have to bed her. I'm sure you'd have your pick of witches. Just ask the one who happens to irritate you the least.

'It's not as if you were a complete imbecile in Potions. I'm sure Daphne would be more than agreeable to give you some locks of her hair, considering it is partly her fault you're in this bit of a mess. Brew enough so whomever you choose can withstand the ceremony and whatever other festivities your father has planned. Once the magical signatures touch the parchment, it seals the Contract and it's too late to do anything about it, regardless of whom you've married. Unless of course you don't consummate it within a specified time of I believe 72 hours, then you're right back where you started." Hermione nodded, reaching for her tea cup with trembling hands which did not go unnoticed. "Of course the easiest option is to simply appeal to the Minister. Shacklebolt is not as unreasonable as most people think he is and considering the work you've done for the Ministry I'm sure he'd consider it at the very least. I could do a bit of research if you like, Daphne. This affects you as much as it does Malfoy. I'm sure there's an obscure law somewhere that negates a contract upon the passing of the intended. In fact, if I remember correctly the contracts cannot be altered without the magical consent of both parents..."

"How do you know about the clauses?" Draco's eyebrow raised in suspicion while interrupting her rambling monologue. Hermione mumbled her answer, drawing his gaze once again to those damn lips.

"She writes them." Declan supplied uneasily.

"You've done this to me?" With determination, Hermione met Draco's unnerving stare.

"Actually, it was your mother. She came to see me and asked me to draw up your original Blood Contract which honestly is more lenient than any of the others I've been asked to draw up but your father took the reins with this one and I don't exactly know the reasoning behind it and..."

"My mother?!" Draco shouted, finding himself out of his seat, leaning across the table. Hermione shook, being the recipient of his unexpected yet instant fury. She was aware Draco believed his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, to be missing. She had spoken with the woman quite often. A nervous slip of the tongue spilt a secret which wasn't hers to tell.

"Malfoy." Blaise Zabini forced his friend back into his seat.

"I..I.." Hermione looked to Declan her eyes wide, fearing Malfoy's response to the truth. Declan inclined his head slightly, his hand covering hers, squeezing it gently. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I see her every week, for tea."

"You're fucking lying." Hermione kept her eyes shut against the venom of Draco Malfoy.

"Language." Hermione opened her eyes, refusing to back down from the likes of him. His mouth gaped open. No one, not even Nott knew the ways in which aristocratic Narcissa Malfoy would correct her son and here it was Hermione Granger spouting his mother's edict? How could this have happened? His head ached. He sat back in his dining chair, feeling a sense of betrayal.

"How long?" He rubbed his temples trying to absorb this new information.

"Half a year or so." Hermione felt a pang of guilt as she revealed the hidden piece of information. She heard the hiss of anger, wishing she could disappear.

"I want to see her."

"Malfoy, I.." He slammed his fist onto the table, jarring the delicate china.

"I. Want. To. See. Her." Hermione recognised it wasn't a request. Draco was demanding and as much as she didn't wish to yield to his will, it was his mother. Not even Hermione Granger could deny him that.

"Next Thursday. Mid-afternoon." She could see him relax, breathe a sigh of relief when she didn't argue with him any longer.

"Happy Wedding to us." Blaise's sarcasm dripped through the tension at their table.

"Hush, darling. At least Theo got his daily dose of Declan. Didn't you dear?" Daphne winked, enjoying the flush which spread quickly across his cheeks.

"Does everyone bloody know?" Declan snorted, confirming Theo's suspicions.

"Nott. We roomed with you for six years. You were worse than Granger with your head in your fu-bloody books." Hermione smirked, yet she was pleased. "You never dated, shagged or snogged anyone.."

"I shagged Pansy!" Theo interjected, slightly insulted.

"Who hasn't? That doesn't count. You were practically drooling Fourth Year when those Durmstrang boys were about. We figured you'd tell us when you were ready, but you didn't so we outed you. Sorry, but not sorry." Blaise rolled his eyes again and not for the last time that night. He stood, pulling his new wife to her feet. "Listen. It's my wedding night. I'm taking my wife home and shagging her til she can't walk. G'nite." Without a backward glance, Blaise stalked toward the door, Daphne throwing a quick smile and a wave over her shoulder.

"Well, it's been an interesting evening to say the least. We're going to follow Blaise and Daphne's example. Sweetie, I'll be home tomorrow. G'nite dear." Declan kissed her cheek quickly, whisking Theo into the night.

"It's been a long, difficult night Malfoy." Hermione stood slowly, prepared to leave when she felt her wrist in an iron grip.

"Where?" She turned to face him, the scent of lavender assailing his nostrils.

"Where what, Malfoy?" Hermione was exhausted. She just wanted to go home and have a cuppa, wrapped in a comforter in front of her fire.

"Thursday. Mid-afternoon. Where?" Her hand began to tingle even as he squeezed tighter, dragging her against him. He resisted the urge to crush his lips to hers. He needed answers.

"My flat." She didn't want to be standing in the middle of the closing restaurant in the arms of Draco Malfoy. She was suffocating again, unable to draw a full breath while feelings of guilt and betrayal bubbled in her chest.

"Let's go then." He released Hermione, sensing her discomfort and not wishing to compound it, ruining his chance to see his mother.

"Where?" Hermione pretended to straighten her dress, while gathering her nerves.

"Your flat of course."

"Malfoy, I'm not bringing you to my flat."Hermione stepped out of the restaurant into the cool evening air, hoping it would cool the heat still lingering on her cheeks.

She felt the heat of Draco's body behind her but she refused to acknowledge him. She wasn't quite sure she understood what had happened earlier nor was she capable of pretending she hadn't enjoyed it. It wasn't that she retained childish animosity toward Draco Malfoy. Fact of the matter is, she barely thought of him at all, except for the few seconds she spied the striking platinum hair while scurrying through the corridors of the Ministry or passing him on the way to the lift. They'd nod curtly toward one another and continue on their day, though Hermione wasn't sure if she would be able to pretend they had never shared a heated moment against a rugged brick wall in Diagon Alley.

"Are you afraid of me, Granger?" Her skin prickled at the sensation of his breath tickling the hairs on her neck. His voice was soft and silky, making it almost recognisable from the angry bellows she had become accustomed to in her youth. It was her moment to lie. She simply had to scoff, say no and continue on with her evening, but something stopped her.

There were a thousand reasons if there was one to lie to him. Hermione knew he wasn't the same stubborn sullen boy she had once known. He maintained his arrogant flair, there was no denying that, but since his mother had disappeared, Draco Malfoy was softer it seemed. She could imagine his pain because it mirrored her own. She couldn't lie to another soul who had lost just as much as she had. It was war, sure and everyone lost, but it brought them together as much as it pushed them apart.

Hermione Granger was tired. She didn't wish to pretend she wasn't capable of toppling over, just the same as anyone else. It wasn't on her agenda to collapse into a void of nothingness, mind you, but after losing Ron she felt a bit fragile. It wasn't that she was completely in love with the bloke or anything, but he had been a significant part of her life and it was over. It was over, Ron was dead and Harry Potter was a bit mental, it would weigh down anyone, even Hermione Granger.

Draco Malfoy stood behind Hermione Granger, silently waiting for her answer. While she stared at the ground, weighing the pros and cons of maintaining civility with him, he studied the smooth lines of her neck, the short, tight, wispy curls which refused to be twisted upon her head, and the slivers of moonlight exposing the three light freckles on her creamy shoulder. He blinked and his fingertips gently brushed across the freckles. She was holding her breath, he knew that much. She looked so fragile and just a little broken, which made him want to protect her. It didn't make a bit of sense; at least he didn't think so.

He vaguely recalled overhearing the bit of gossip concerning the death of her parents and of course had brushed it off. Everyone lost someone during that blasted war. Draco couldn't say he felt particularly horrid knowing the bloody Weasel was one of the many casualties of war, but he was quite surprised to learn Granger and Potter were estranged.

There was no love lost between Draco and Harry, but it was the little things which caused him to pay closer attention. Harry Potter seemed quite put out whenever his name didn't garner him exactly what he was seeking. It wasn't the persona Draco remembered from their school days, but he supposed everyone had changed in some way, shape or form. In the beginning it didn't bother Draco in the least, but now, well it seemed as if The Boy Who Lived had his eyes set on Hermione Granger and she wasn't biting.

Hermione shivered, quite frightened, until she realised it was Draco. He was toying with the stubborn tendrils curled upon her neck. She _was_ afraid of him, but it was a different sort of fear. It wasn't the soul consuming, heart stopping terror which enveloped her when thinking of Harry. No, this was decidedly different, which made it that much more terrifying.

"Yes actually, I am afraid of you. That's not the right word. You make me feel...uneasy. After your display earlier, you can hardly blame me." Draco hadn't expected such raw honesty. He thought she'd scoff at him or tell him what an absolute prat he was being and move along.

"Which display is that? The one where I snogged you senseless or the one where I shouted a bit upon discovering the girl I used to detest knows exactly where my mother has been? Do tell, Granger." Draco dropped his hand to her waist, leaning over slightly until his nose brushed the top of her ear and his words warmed her skin. He was intrigued, it didn't take much for him to admit it, his mother would be proud.

"I understand why you would lash out at me where your mother is concerned. I wanted to tell you right away, but she wouldn't hear of it. Honestly, I'm glad you know. I felt horrid keeping it from you." Hermione sighed heavily, as some of the weight upon her shoulders had been relieved by her confession.

"Granger, I know my mother. It's not your fault. I'm sure she wrote her demands on a bit of parchment and demanded you sign it with your magic." Draco smirked, watching the blush slowly rise in Hermione's cheeks.

"Used to detest?" Hermione smiled in knowing satisfaction to see Draco's cheeks pinkening as well.

"Yes well, we're not children anymore are we? I suppose it could have been construed as rude the way I was going on about your presence at the pub, but I was completely pissed. Can't hold that against me." Draco nodded, quite pleased with himself once more.

"Well, then it goes to reason in saying the kissing merely happened because you were completely pissed as well." Hermione managed to take a few steps forward, leaving the warmth of his body behind. Draco caught up easily; of course he did and caught her hand.

"I'm not completely pissed now, Granger." He spun her in a quick circle, pulling her against him.

Diagon Alley was almost completely bereft of witches and wizards as the hour was quite late and as Draco Malfoy pressed Hermione Granger into the picture window of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a pair of green eyes crackling with rage took in the scene with his lips curling in derision. He growled deep in his chest, his right hand twitching for the feel of his wand, but he refrained. He didn't want to alert them to his presence, not yet. There would be plenty of time for that later. Instead he watched and listened, gleaning every bit of information from the duo.

"So what are you saying then? Since you're not completely pissed, Draco Malfoy is not above kissing Hermione Granger?" She tried to sound angry. She even managed to cross her arms, but Draco wasn't falling for her act. His palms slammed into the glass, boxing her in, his lips hovering just above her ear.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." The pounding in her ears and the fluttering of her heart beneath her rib cage almost drowned out the honeyed words, but the feel of his lips upon hers certainly didn't.


	2. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

**AN: warning - allusions of non-consent.**

***kisses***

* * *

Chapter 2 - Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

* * *

"Blaise, darling, we've got to do something." Daphne nipped her new husband's neck, her hands roving his naked chest. He cracked an eye, intent on sleeping, but his wife had other plans.

"It's his problem." He wanted to sound gruff and apathetic, but it was difficult seeing Daphne's pale hand encircle him. She flashed him a smile while reclining on her side, her dark hair gliding across his lower abdomen.

"We created it." She licked her lips sensually, purring as his muscles contracted. "We should have informed him. You know what his father is like. Draco has to choose someone. Though, he'll choose a disgusting slag and we'll be forced to spend our evenings and holidays with the bitch so really, if you think about it, darling, we're doing this for us." Daphne stroked her husband lightly, her thumb finding the sensitive skin along the shaft.

"Can't think when you're doing that." Daphne squeezed gently before releasing him. "Why'd you stop?" Blaise sat up, his tanned chest drawing her eye as it always had.

"We have to choose her, Blaise." Blaise knew it was futile to argue if he had any intention of shagging his wife. He knew exactly what she was proposing and he didn't like it, not one bit.

"You want Granger." It wasn't a question, he knew Daphne better than that. She smiled broadly, climbing astride her husband.

"Why not then? She's bloody brilliant. She's lonely. She's got no one really besides her books of course. Did you see them then? It was so bloody hot. His hands just wrapped around her. She was totally pinned to that wall. Her breasts were completely..well something like this.." Daphne pressed against her husband's hard chest, her arms on either side of his head, her breasts flattened against him.

"His hands were on that cute little arse," Blaise played along, tanned hands against porcelain skin, gripping tightly, moaning.

"Her little blue dress hiked up, she's got legs for days, hot little thighs..." Daphne teased her husband, hovering above him enjoying the power.

"Alright, alright, you win." Blaise whimpered, impaling his wife before flipping her onto her back. "We'll never convince him. He thinks he hates her." Blaise managed to sputter between thrusts.

"You leave that to me, darling. Oh, harder." She gasped, gripping his hips, her nails imbedded in him, just the way he liked it.

* * *

"Does she ever talk about it?" Theo Nott sat up in his four poster bed, grabbing a cigarette from the pack on his night stand before using his wand to light the tip.

"Nasty habit you've got there." Declan snatched the smoke, inhaling deeply.

"Wonder where I picked it up? Must have been some Muggle boy." Theo teased, lighting another for himself.

"Half-blood thank you very much, you wanker."

"Does it matter? Really?" Theo bunched the dark green sheet across his hips, his eyes straying to the muscular naked form beside him.

"Not in the least." Declan blew smoke rings at the ceiling, a satisfied smile bringing out the dimple in his left cheek.

"You didn't answer me, Dec." Dandy sighed deeply, considering how much he should share with his nosy bedmate.

"I'm aware. Why so interested, Theodore."

"Don't call me Theodore. You said she's your best friend. At Hogwarts, she was besties with Potter and Weasley. I think I'd just like to know how it all happened." Declan grabbed his boxers from the floor, slipping them over his hips before pacing the ridiculously large bedroom.

"I remember, Theo. I might have been in Hufflepuff," Theo cringed, "and I might have been a few years ahead of all of you, but even I recall her closeness with those two. I was there, at the Battle of Hogwarts you know?" Theo shook his head, realising how little he truly knew when it came to Declan Rosier.

"She and Harry were, I don't know what they were doing exactly, but they threw something, looked like a wand actually and headed back toward the school when she collapsed. Harry had this sort of helplessness about him. He patted her back awkwardly before she shoved him off. There was this bit of indecisiveness about him, so I wandered over. She needed something and he obviously hadn't a bloody clue. I picked her up and carried her into the Great Hall. Weasley's mother or sister or something, I can't tell any of them apart, took her from me. She wouldn't look at him. Almost as if...if she didn't look at him, it wasn't real. She never cried. Still don't think she has, honestly.

Didn't see her again for years. I advertised for a flatmate when I was still working at the Ministry. She just sort of showed up, listing all these rules and regulations, inspecting every inch of my flat before deeming it appropriate. We just sort of segued into friends. She's very organised and fastidious. I like that about her. She doesn't have loud obnoxious parties or anyone over ever, really. Neither did I. We read. We cooked and then one day, I just couldn't take her bloody fashion sense anymore. I took her shopping, all the while ignoring her bitching. She bitches quite a lot." Theo snorted. The Gryffindor Princess drove him absolutely crazy with her incessant insistence on correcting everyone around her. Though, it still surprised him that Potter and Granger weren't close anymore.

"She's always been that way. Bloody little know it all."

"Theo, don't be a prick. It's all she has. We've lived together for what now? At least five years. Potter hasn't owled her once." The false statement rolled off Declan's lips easily, "She wasn't even invited to his wedding to whats-her-face. They claimed it was a 'small affair' but the Daily Prophet's photos said something completely different. I don't know what happened between them. Hermione simply refuses to speak of it. Personally, I believe it's a game of blame. He blames her for not being able to keep the stupid Weasley at the castle and she blames Potter for not protecting Ron once he discovered Ron had followed him to confront You-Know-Who. They both should be blaming Ron, but it's unkind to speak ill of the dead." Declan chain smoked, filling the air with clouds of smoke, still pacing shirtless in Theo's bedroom. He didn't enjoy lying, he never had, but these were extenuating circumstances and he was sure Theo would understand.

Theo actually felt a pang of regret for his blatant dismissal of Hermione Granger's existence. He didn't think himself to be a cruel being, yet his actions toward her spoke otherwise.

"Well, shit. I feel like an arse now." Theo threw on a pair of dark green lounge pants, lighting another cigarette.

"You are an arse, Theo."

"Yes! I'm well aware; I simply dislike feeling like one. She hasn't anyone then?" Theo's forehead creased, wondering what it would be like to be truly alone in the world. It filled him with a sense of dismay.

"She has me. She has Daphne now and Blaise, under protest of course. Her parents died a couple years ago, some sort of Muggle accident." Declan's finger caught in his dark curls.

"Muggle accident? Dec. You're mum's a bloody Muggle."

"I'm aware, but I'm simply not in the mood to explain Muggle contraptions to you currently. Let it go, Theo."

"Fine then. The Weasley's don't contact her either? Seems a bit rude." Theo opened the glass door leading to his modest garden.

"Oh, they did, for a bit anyway, before she moved in with me. Molly sends an owl once or twice a year now, but Hermione never replies. I think she can't bear it." Declan didn't wish to discuss Hermione Granger anymore. He felt almost as if he were betraying her confidence. As much as she put on a brave front, she was still an incredibly fragile girl.

"No more, Theo," Declan winked at the tall, pale gangly man across the room from him, "Come back to bed, we're not finished yet." Declan tossed his boxers onto the floor waiting impatiently for Theo to join him.

Harry Potter raged silently long after the couple had pulled away from each other, long after they'd disappeared into the night. She was _his_. Draco Malfoy didn't have the right to touch what was his. Hermione fought against it sure, but Harry knew eventually she'd see the light of reason and allow him to take her again. He'd been scheming behind all their backs. Hermione Granger might have been hailed the brightest witch of their age, but she didn't have anything on Harry Potter.

Harry was deluding himself of course, but he wasn't aware of it. He was a man on a mission and his end game included Hermione Granger. He'd become obsessed with her, showing up at odd hours of the night on the pretense of checking on her well being. It wasn't long before she became completely suspicious and warded her home against unwelcome visitors. Harry laughed in remembrance. As if a few simple wards could keep an Auror away? Ridiculous. Instead he slipped into her flat while she was sleeping, keeping careful watch over his best mate's girl, just as he had promised.

He wasn't going to let a simple matter of Draco Malfoy stand in his way. He wasn't going to let a sexually ambiguous wizard keep her scurried away from him either. He worked for the Ministry, the Minister was a close personal friend. It was inconceivable to him that Hermione hadn't even considered that little fact. Harry laughed once more, fingering the file inside his cloak pocket.

It was been surprisingly easy for Harry to knick the file right off Shacklebolt's desk. He hadn't bothered to consider why it had been there, that was something Hermione would have done. He had barely restrained himself from a well deserved cackle with glee when he discovered her file was filled with addresses. Vaguely he wondered why Shacklebolt would have this information. Was the Minister for Magic trying to pilfer Harry Potter's one true love? This would never do. He'd have to find her and confront her before things went any further. Hermione Granger needed to learn to whom she belonged.

* * *

"No, we can't just bloody Apparate to my flat, Malfoy. It's in Muggle London. There's an Apparition point a few blocks away. You shall not die if you actually use your limbs." Hermione huffed for what felt like the millionth time in the past half hour. Draco Malfoy trailed behind her, still surprised she agreed to his presence in her flat, but enjoying the way her slinky blue dress rode up her thighs.

_*Granger's not bad to look at, as long as I don't remind myself it's her.*_

"Come along, Malfoy. I'd like to get home sometime tonight. I don't know why you're insisting on seeing me home. I bloody well told you I'd owl you the address." Her eyes rolled, yet again.  
Draco wanted to strangle her, or at the very least shake her a bit. Resisting the urges of violence, he caught up to her easily, snagging her hand. Hermione spun on her heel, hand raised to slap him. He caught it easily, the hint of a smile in his grey eyes. He wondered if he could get away with snogging her again; for experimental purposes of course.

"Please. Don't, Malfoy. Please." To a casual observer it simply seemed two individuals were standing under the street light in Muggle London, prepared to dance without music, but Draco knew better. He saw the fear in her amber eyes, the tremble of her bottom lip and even the tremor in her limbs. She was afraid, but it wasn't of him, even he could see that much.

"What are you afraid of, Granger?" Draco released one of her hands, still keeping a firm grip on her wrist. He was expecting a scoff and the customary defiance to light a fire in her eyes, but it didn't come. She stepped away from him, her eyes fastened on the Apparition point. He didn't think she'd answer him.

"Everything. Declan doesn't usually leave me to my own devices and well..."

"Who was it Granger? Who's done this to you?" He watched her chin fall forward, her eyes steady on the ground and it unnerved him a bit. He'd much prefer to see the angry witch from dinner than this quivering mess. He tossed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, as it was obvious she required some sort of comfort even if it was stemming from him.

"I-it's Harry. I don't know why I'm telling you this. It took me a year to confide in Declan and only bits and pieces..."

"Granger, we've all been whispering about it for years. When the Gryffindor Princess and the Golden Boy avoid each other at all costs, it's about to kick up a bit of gossip." Hermione was slightly confused by the kindness in his words, the gentleness of his touch as his hand roved her back in soothing circles.

"He doesn't avoid me. I avoid him. I work odd hours and do most of it from home if I can help it. I live with Dec in Muggle London and our flat was warded by the Minister himself." Her shoulders slouched with the quiet admission, her feet stumbling over themselves, desperate to put some space between them.

"What the bloody hell did he do to you, Granger?" Hermione's breath caught in her throat, unable to continue.

"I need a drink." Hermione stepped into an alley, pulling Draco with her. She withdrew her wand from the strap on her thigh, taking a deep breath.

"Wait. It's better this way, so I've heard." He couldn't explain why he felt the compulsion to hold her against him, but he did. He blamed the firewhisky. It was an easy excuse and if he told himself enough times, perhaps he would even believe it. Carefully, so as not to frighten her, inwardly cursing himself for the consideration, Draco Malfoy encircled Hermione Granger's waist in preparation for Side-Along-Apparition.

He vaguely remembered Daphne mentioning Granger's avoidance of it since someone splinched on her years ago. Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply. It had been an incredibly long time since anyone had touched her with tenderness, or at all for that matter. Declan's friendly hugs weren't the same as this. She thought of the street light at the end of her modest street, hidden from view by the largest of oak trees. She raised her wand, gasping as she found herself responding to the gentle lips of Draco Malfoy as the familiar tug in her center ripped them away.

It was the strangest sensation, but not altogether unpleasant, even Hermione had to admit. They were crushed together, almost as if they were one being. It wasn't the firewhisky, he thought, it's _her_. There's something about infuriating, irritating, fragile, little Granger, he couldn't nor did he want to resist. Hermione felt alive and hated herself for it. She pushed against the ruggedly masculine chest, wiggling free of his persistent kisses.

"Why do you keep doing that?!" Her words were louder than she intended and not as angry as she thought they should be.

"I..I don't know." Draco didn't know what it was about her. He avoided her out of habit, more than anything. He couldn't seem to come to terms with Hermione Granger as she was. He believed she'd always be that annoying, bushy-haired, know-it-all who always bested him, to his chagrin. He had never taken a moment to contemplate how the war affected her. Why would he really? He was Draco Malfoy after-all. He had been pardoned by the Ministry and while his mother had been missing, his life carried on much the way it had, without all the inconvenient hatred and death. Hermione Granger lost one of her best friends and her parents. Potter was apparently stalking her; she rarely smiled and never dated anyone.

_*She really is alone.*_ Draco felt a pang of sadness for the girl he'd once detested. As hard as Lucius Malfoy had tried, ranting and raving and even threatening, Draco had never truly embraced his father's hatred. After Narcissa Malfoy had disappeared, he didn't have it within him anymore.

He held onto all their secret moments. Every time she held his hand, brushed his hair from his cheek, told him she loved him, begged him to make better choices than his father, pleaded with him to find his own way. He recalled them all and silently promised to uphold them.

Draco didn't know when he had resumed kissing Hermione, yet he knew he had when he heard the light whimper below him. He forced himself to open his eyes, a light groan escaping him at the sight of her mussed hair, flushed cheeks and swollen pink lips. Old feelings of self-loathing fought to break to the surface, remnants of his childhood, his inner voice eerily similar to the venom of his father, yet it was impossible to embrace them with her in his arms.

He was glad he had given her his cloak as it seemed the back of her dress was daringly high. Draco appreciated the wisps of lace considered knickers, which bared entirely too much skin. Hermione wasn't protesting the feel of his large hands on her arse, or even the kisses laid on the exposed flesh of her cleavage. She knew what they were doing was indecent, even if it was hidden by the dark of night and a billowing cloak and yet she didn't stop him. She'd never had a moment of unbridled passion with anyone and the fact it was Draco Malfoy eliciting such feelings in her made it that much more exciting.

He devoured her lips, under the street lamp, no longer caring if they were alone. She gripped his forearms when he slipped his hand between her thighs. He fingered the lace, resisting the urge to smirk upon discovering they were decidedly damp. He slipped past the lace, wondering if they matched her dress and groaned upon contact. Hermione gasped in his mouth, beads of sweat dripping down the back of her neck while Draco Malfoy stroked her sex under a street lamp in Muggle London.

"I want you." The words escaped against her jawline, surprising him as much as her. She shook her head negatively, attempting to disengage herself.

"You don't. You can't." Hermione pushed a trembling hand against his hard chest, forcing him to remove his hand from her knickers.

With a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, he caressed the hand on his chest, turning it gently, kissing the inside of her wrist, his eyes trained on her. Hermione shivered, her face partially hidden in the shadow. Her feet dragged her forward, until once again, she was moulded against Draco Malfoy.

"You're not the boss of me, woman." He flicked her earlobe with his tongue and she smiled. Hermione Granger smiled at him.

"You don't even like me." Draco knew her resistance was waning. Though when he thought about it, he couldn't remember the last time he had to cajole a witch between the sheets.

"I disagree and the state of my trousers disagrees as well." He bit her neck then, sucking the spot hard until she melted in his arms and he knew he had won.

"He-Hermione?" Draco felt Hermione stiffen immediately, daggers flashing in her brown eyes. With reluctance he loosened his arms, prepared to disappear into the shadows if necessary, yet Hermione gripped his forearm almost painfully. He wasn't one to question the wants of any witch in his arms. Draco turned them slowly, surprised when green eyes narrowed in his direction. Draco laughed.

"Of course. This entire evening has been a shit show. Wouldn't be proper if Harry Fucking Potter didn't show up as well." Smirking at Harry, Draco brushed stray tendrils from Hermione's neck. "Not you, love. That's been bloody delightful." A perverse sort of satisfaction marred his features as Hermione's blush deepened.

"Third house on the right. Would you wait there for me?" Her voice was low and husky, yet he noticed the tremor. Draco pecked her cheek quickly before swaggering down the quiet street in search of Hermione's flat. He had half a mind to refuse but he wasn't about to duel with a bloody Auror.

Harry burned with rage, his hands shaking with the effort to resist the urge to blast Draco Malfoy into oblivion.

"How could you?!" Hermione clenched her wand tightly, her teeth grinding together in anger.

"How could I? Really, Harry? How dare you." Harry's eyes darkened with something Hermione regretted she was quite familiar. She backed away from him, her wand pointed at him. "S-Stay away from me, H-Harry."

"Stay away from you? Hermione, you know I can't do that. You belong to me, with me. I can't let you alone. You must come with me before Malfoy's completely tainted you." Hermione reached into her depths to keep hold of herself, but fear took over quickly. With a groan of frustration, she pressed the amethyst on the silver ring she wore on her forefinger. It burned slightly and Hermione hoped he would come. He'd always come before.

"Harry, I don't belong to you. I don't belong with you either. You've got to stop. I don't want to be with you, I've told you this. I had hoped you understood but apparently I was wrong. When Ron asked you to take care of me, this is not what he meant, Harry." Hermione was grasping at straws, willing Declan to hurry. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to hold him off.

"Ron wanted me to take care of you. He wouldn't want to see you with the likes of Malfoy. You deserve so much better than that, Hermione." Harry pleaded with his love, begging her to reconsider the error of her ways.

Hermione shook her head, backing away from him with her wand still trained on his chest. She could see the madness flickering in his green eyes and wanted no part of it.

"No, Harry no. This isn't what Ron would have wanted at all. He would want me to be happy." Hermione turned on her heel and ran toward her flat, only taking a few steps before spying Draco quickly returning.

"Ron would.." Harry sputtered, his mouth twisted in a vicious snarl.

"What would Ron think of YOU, Harry Potter?" Declan Rosier's hulking form stalked toward Harry, making Harry seem incredibly small. He wavered between chasing the fleeing witch or facing Declan, yet the choice was made for him when Draco Malfoy thrust Hermione behind him.

"This has nothing to do with you, _Rosier_." Harry sneered nastily, despising the wizard constantly interrupting his scant moments with Hermione Granger.

"You have no business here, Potter. Don't come back. I'm sure the Minister would be most displeased with his Head Auror if certain facts came to light." Declan allowed himself satisfaction while Harry Potter paled.

"This isn't over." Harry hissed, Disapparating. Declan sighed, large fingertips pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, Potter, I imagine it isn't." It was time Hermione Granger told him exactly what Harry Potter had done to her. He had enough of the cocky bastard interrupting his evenings and his life for that matter. Some secrets weren't meant to be kept.

"He's gone? You're sure? He's not coming back, is he?" Declan rolled his eyes while adding additional wards to their flat. Their Floo Network was already closed as well as Apparition. He had a devil of a time locking down what used to be his tranquil flat.

"Sweetie, calm down. Get yourself out of that fabulous dress, have a drink and then we need to talk." Hermione nodded, frazzled and nervous, but she desperately tried to unzip her dress with shaking fingers, the notion of magic slipping her mind.

"I can't. I can't. I can't get it off." Hermione kicked her shoes across the cold tile floor, slapping the dark wood door in front of her. Her shoulders slumped, a sob shaking her as she pressed her forehead against the wood grains. Declan was used to her outbursts, he knew she'd calm down eventually. He continued placing wards, watching Malfoy take in the scene around him. Draco Malfoy stepped toward Hermione, honestly terrified of her irrational outburst.

"What the hell did he do to you Granger?" His voice was rough. He despised this trembling weakling before him. He wanted to see Granger yelling, throwing things and hexing people. That's what she did. She didn't cry. He snarled in disgust, lowering the zipper on her dark blue dress while opening the door, and giving her a gentle shove. She was faster than he gave her credit and locked her hand around his wrist, dragging him into her bedroom.

She was the aggressor in this scenario and while Draco was surprised, he most definitely wasn't displeased to find himself pinned against the dark wood door. He opened his mouth to chastise her and it was covered with those soft lips he was unable to resist. He didn't know how it happened but Hermione's dress was missing and they were lying on her bed, her hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She ripped the shirt open in her frustration and he chuckled at her impatience. In the process of rolling her rigid nipple between his fingertips before covering it with his mouth, there was a pounding at the door he was apt to ignore. Hermione attacked his lips with a fervor, straddling his lap, grinding into him. While Draco wasn't against a frenzied sort of shag, he knew she was burying herself in him. As much as he wanted to allow her such liberties, he didn't want to take advantage of the distressed witch even as he mentally cursed himself for such a thought.

"Granger..." Draco managed to murmur between kisses and caresses of supple skin, "Declan's at the door, love." He captured her hands and sat up, holding her still. Hermione's eyes were closed, her skin flushed a delightful shade of pink and he wasn't about to deny himself the pleasure of gazing upon her nudity.

She nodded slowly and climbed off his lap, keeping her back to him. He watched her rummage through the drawers of her bureau for a moment before quickly repairing his shirt. He opened the bedroom door with a sigh of regret and headed toward the living room.

"What the fuck Dec?" Draco settled onto the dark leather sofa, knowing he was being ambiguous. He tossed his Muggle blazer onto the arm of the sofa, waiting for Declan to finish the wards. Declan removed a purple jumper from a nearby hook, throwing it on over his t-shirt before pouring two tumblers of firewhisky. He sat next to Malfoy, clinking the glass on the mahogany coffee table.

"Don't know honestly. Potter shows up unannounced all the time. He's never been at our flat before though; mostly he sends owls and stalks her office. Terrifies her. He's done something to her and I aim to find out." Declan downed his drink, wishing he'd just brought over the bottle.

"She's never said? Seriously? A bit mental if you ask me." Draco downed his drink, coughing lightly at the familiar burn.

"No one ASKED you, Malfoy." Hermione slammed the bottle of firewhisky onto the table, squeezing between the two wizards. Draco and Declan shrugged at each other. Draco poured himself another drink, offering the bottle to Declan. Hermione snatched Draco's glass from his hand, swallowing the contents, choking, her eyes tearing, she poured another. Draco was prepared to argue with her, but Declan's wagging finger prevented him. He leaned back on the sofa, casually tossing his arm across the back.

In silence they watched Hermione Granger drink more than her fair share of firewhisky. They felt it would be unconscionable to discuss her in her presence, but the silence was irritating Malfoy.

"Rosier. Hmm, you're related to me, aren't you?" Draco decided the best course of action was to pretend Granger didn't exist. Declan sipped his drink, watching Hermione drown her upset and sorrow.

"We're all related, aren't we? Yes, vaguely, somehow through the Blacks. It's a bit murky considering all the disowning. Could you imagine? Disowning your child for loving a Muggle? Or a Muggle-born for that matter? Preposterous if you ask me." He twirled the silver ring on his thumb in circles.

"That how she called you then?" Declan nodded curtly, unwilling to expand further when Hermione broke into the awkward conversation. She had ripped the pins from her hair, assembling it into a messy bun on the top of her head. Her oversized green jumped slid off a creamy shoulder, a few freckles trailing into her hairline.

"He visited me. At my old flat. I was...I was living in Hogsmeade at the time. It was familiar and I wasn't ready to go home yet. It was all so fresh, so new, so bloody raw and I couldn't." Hermione drank from the bottle now, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "It had been awhile since I'd seen him. I shouldn't have let him in, looking back, I know that now. I didn't really recognise the wizard in front of me. He wasn't the same old, Harry. He was a new Harry. An angry Harry, hateful even. He kept...he kept..." Declan rubbed her back in small circles, encouraging her to continue. Draco was uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly friends with Granger, he wasn't sure he wanted to know intimate details of her inner pain.

"You don't have to.." He figured it was the gallant thing to do. Draco wanted to escape the madness, but he also desperately wished to snog her again, as awful as the thought was, he was being honest.

"I do." Hermione flung herself backward, trapping Draco's hand under her hair. He didn't mind it as much as he thought he should.

"Sweetie, you were saying?" Declan dragged his hand from behind her, snatching the bottle of firewhisky for a long draught. She took it back, finding herself calmer with it held on her lap. She drew her feet under her to keep them warm.

"He screamed at me. Blamed me. Said absolutely horrid things. As if I encouraged Ron to run off like a bloody arse. As if it were my fault Voldemort blasted him to bits! I wasn't bloody there. I told Ron not to go. He bloody stunned me. Ron! Of all people, stunned ME! McGonagall wouldn't let me go after them. What was I supposed to do? There was nothing I could do. Right?" The tears shone on her cheeks while she desperately swiveled between the men beside her.

"Sweetie, you would have died too. Then where would I be?" Declan felt a sense of relief. After all these years, she was finally releasing her inner demons.

"Weasley was always a bit of a git. Surprised he didn't off himself years before honestly. Don't look at me like that. You didn't know him Dec! He only passed his classes because of Granger. She was always letting him copy her parchment. Bloody useless he was." To his surprise, Hermione laughed. Great peals of laughter as she curled unto herself.

"She's done. No more firewhisky for her." Declan stole the bottle, downing an impressive amount before she took it back.

"Guests require libation as well." Hermione rolled her eyes, sloshing the contents onto his hand, falling into his side. Draco expected her to regain her balance but she didn't. She inhaled his dress shirt instead.

"You smell good." She flipped onto her back, propping her feet on Declan's lap, her hair coming loose from her bun, spreading across Draco's lap. He tensed, uncomfortable with this form of intimacy, in front of Declan no less, when she yanked his hand off the back of the couch, entwining their fingers. Declan, on the other hand, chuckled in amusement, used to her antics.

"I don't want to see him again, Dec. He's vile." Hermione hiccupped, covering her mouth with Draco's hand.

"Never did manage to tell us what he did, Sweetie." Declan tickled the bottom of her foot, distracting her.

"Stop it! I'll tell you. Swear. Give me a drink." Draco passed Hermione the firewhisky, snorting when she emptied it.

"Accio, firewhisky!" Declan waved his wand, his hand poised for the bottle floating directly toward him.

"Continue.."

"You have long fingers." Hermione touched the tip of each of Draco's fingers with her own while he shifted his position. "Don't know why I let him in. Sure, oldest friend, Golden whatever, pain in the arse, stubborn but I did. Now, Decky, you must promise, promise, promise you won't kill him."

"Don't like the sound of that, Granger." Draco forced her hands still, watching the grimace on her face upside down, resisting the urge to kiss her frown away. He hated the conflicting emotions she caused in him, yet he didn't have the strength to stop them.

"We'll see, Sweetie, we'll see." Declan leaned forward, his blue eyes narrowed in trepidation. He always suspected it was something more than simple anger which kept her from her former best friend's side.

"I think, now, he slipped some Sleeping Draught into my tea. We were having a perfect amicable conversation, well, after the yelling of course. He suggested a bit of tea and I do so love tea. You know this, Dec. He was watching me. Didn't like it. Not a bloody bit, so I drank my tea quickly, hoping it would hurry him off but it didn't. I was so sleepy." Hermione yawned, turning toward the sofa, nuzzling Draco's side.

"Not yet, Sweetie. Here. It's your turn to hold the bottle." Declan knew he was really pushing his luck, but he was furious. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was only a matter of time. Draco pushed Hermione a bit forward, making her sit up against his chest. Declan poured her a finger of firewhisky watching her inhale it.

"I didn't know what happened right away. I woke up in the morning, in my bed, but it was all wrong. My hair wasn't put up and you know I always put my hair up Decky. My bottoms were flannel but it was...it was..."

"Summertime." Declan interjected, his fist clenched, teeth grinding together. He recalled the numerous conversations they had shared concerning the dissolving of her friendship with The Chosen One.

"Exactly! Stupidly, I talked to Harry about it and let him explain it away, 'til I got sick. Ginny brought me. They said...they said...I was..but..impossible. Can't be..if you've never. Alright, well I had, once but it was simply awful and I refuse to count it. REFUSE. Horrid. I don't know how to do it, but I'm sure it's not supposed to be horrid. I told the Healer, she had to be mistaken!" Declan's chest was heaving. It was taking every ounce of his self control to remain seated. Draco paled considerably, fumbling for the bottle. He tossed the cap onto the floor, wishing he hadn't insisted on returning to Granger's flat.

"They did all these magical tests and other shite. Some Healer decided I blocked it out and blah blah blah. It went away. I didn't make it. It just did. They were all so bloody sorry. I wasn't sorry. Then the dreams started. It was Harry, Dec. Harry. My very best friend from the time I was eleven. My first real friend. He'd done it. Then he kept showing up and saying things." Her nose crinkled in distaste. "Oh but I love you Hermione. Cho doesn't mean a thing. It was good between us wasn't it? Ron would want me to take care of you. Had to leave. Luna told me about the advertisement and here I am, Decky. 'Cept. Now he knows where I live again. Don't much like that. Suppose I'll have to move. We've had a good run eh?" Hermione smiled brightly, her eyes drooping from the effects of copious amounts of alcohol.

Declan hoped she'd fall asleep soon. He had a Potter to kill.


	3. What Good Am I

**AN: Oi. This story is slowly coming together...finally, it was touch and go there for awhile.**

**thanx for reading my pretties. i'm not one to beg for reviews &amp; i'm not going to start now...but thanks for reviewing and following and all that fantastic stuff. *kisses***

* * *

Chapter 3 - What Good Am I

* * *

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Blaise Zabini flung open his front door stark naked, his dark eyes flashing with rage, dark hair spiked in every direction. It was obvious to Declan he had woken his friend and he wasn't a bit sorry. Declan pushed Blaise, stalking into the darkened home. He stalked to the fireplace, intent on waking Theo as well.

"Blaise?" Daphne's sleep altered voice called over the balustrade.

"Daphne. Get dressed. Bring Blaise something so I don't have to stare at his cock. Theo's on his way." Declan made his way to the bar, pouring a glass of whatever he happened to land upon.

"Why are you here? Get out!" Blaise tossed a dressing robe over his bulky shoulders.

"If I leave here now, I'm going to kill Potter. I'd prefer not to spend my remaining days in bloody Azkaban."

"Is Hermione alright then?" Daphne flew down the stairs, her dark hair in disarray, pouring a drink for Blaise.

"She can't stay with me. He knows where we live. I'm supposed to leave, the first of October. You know how I have to travel. I've been putting it off. The things that bastards done. You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Declan's eyes burned, his chest constricted. Theo stepped casually out of the fireplace. Silently he perched on the arm of a nearby chair.

"Potter? Make sense man. I'm too fuckin' tired." Blaise sipped a glass of red wine, his wife seated upon his lap.

"Yes! Bloody Potter."

"He hurt Hermione? Do I need to go over? Is she alright?" Daphne was poised to rush about, but Declan waved his hand.

"Malfoy's with her. He won't leave until I get back. Potter showed up. He must've really scared her. She used the ring. It's been years. She's completely sloshed. Before she moved in with me, Potter paid her a visit. From what I could gather in her inebriated state, he drugged her, had his way with her and their may or may not have been a child for a short time. He's delusional. I intercept the owls from him. Did you know that? Claims he loves her and..and Ron would want them together. I strengthened the wards on the flat, but he's going to find a way through. He's bloody Head Auror. She's fucked." When Declan's head raised, his friends mouths were gaped open in horror. Daphne was first to rise.

"I'm going over. I need to make sure she's alright." Daphne dashed up the long staircase.

"Daph has an idea. More for Malfoy than her, but this actually works in our favor. Someone has to convince Malfoy though. He's not bloody likely to go for it." Blaise chuckled, regardless of the tense situation.

"Can I still Apparate there directly?" Daphne bustled about, throwing on her dark green robes over slacks. Declan shook his head.

"Sorry. Changed it up after last time. She doesn't even know about last time. The street lamp. That's the closest you can get. The house wards will let you in. Oi! Remind Malfoy to keep his hands off. Hermione would snog a tree when she's as lit as she is and I was already forced to interrupt a heated and disgustingly loud snogging session in her room." Daphne nodded, pecking her husband's cheek.

"I'll get the wheels in motion." She whispered in his ear, before stepping out the door.

"Malfoy will never agree." Theo flounced next to Blaise.

"You've never seen my wife work her wiles."

* * *

Draco Malfoy was most definitely caught in a compromising situation. Hermione Granger straddled his hips, her mouth currently occupied with his earlobes. As much as he wanted to completely ravish her, it was against his better judgement to do such a thing. She was completely snockered. He wasn't certain she would remember anything which had occurred thus far in their evening. He refused to venture down Potter's path. It disgusted him. However, he was having trouble maintaining control. She was so damn tempting. Hermione gripped the back of the sofa, pressing her soft breasts into him. He groaned, which only increased her ministrations. She wiggled her hips, pulled his hair and assailed his mouth. He refused to move his hands from her hips. Every few minutes, he was forced to remove her hands from the buttons of his shirt. Hermione would pout, biting the corner of her lip which drove him to the brink of insanity.

_*If I don't look at her, I can do this.*_ Draco chanted, begging Declan to hurry up. He didn't know how much longer he could maintain his composure.

"Decky's better at this than you." Hermione giggled into his ear. He couldn't recall a single moment he'd ever heard such noise escape her.

"You snog Dec? But he's...he's.."

"Yes and yes. He says lips are lips. It's the other parts he dislikes." Draco's eyes flew open.

He never stood a chance. Hermione smiled and the self loathing began. He hated the little flutter in his chest. He hated how absolutely beautiful she looked, right in that moment. The shoulder of her jumper fell further, the wide neckline displaying the creamy mound of a singular breast. Her hair was a tumbleweed cascading over her shoulders, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed from the effects of the firewhiskey, her blush lips parted but that smile, for him was his undoing. He hated her for it. He hated himself and still his fingertips dug into her hips, sliding her against him while capturing her lips.  
Draco's hands found their way up the back of her jumper, reveling in her smooth skin. Her nimble fingers had deftly opened his white dress shirt, spreading it easily. Hermione rocked against him, slowly, elongating his torment. She forced his hand onto her breast, his other quickly following as the last vestiges of his control began to slip. She raked her fingernails down his chest, earning her a rumble of contentment.

Draco thought he heard the door shut, but he was too consumed with the young witch writhing on his lap. He ached with need, yet he denied her access to his trousers. When her hands reached for his belt, he captured them in his own, shaking his head.

"Granger. No. Not like this." It was the most difficult sentence he had ever spoken. He knew Hermione could feel his heart pounding out of his chest, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to take advantage of her. Not after everything he had heard that evening. Her head tilted, glancing at him quizzically.

"Not like what? Not like me? Harry said that would happen. He said no one would want me. Is that true? Do you not want me?" Hermione didn't sound hurt or angry or any of the emotions he was expecting. She was honestly curious.

"Merlin, Granger." Draco groaned in frustration, cursing the remaining bit of humanity lodge in him. "I'm saying, we can't. Not because I don't want too. You have no bloody idea how much I want too, but I can't. You'll thank me tomorrow. Promise." Hermione sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes, suddenly smiling and squealing. She leapt off his lap running toward the door.

"DAPHNE!" Daphne laughed while she was smothered by the tiny witch. She observed Draco leaping off the sofa, hurriedly buttoning his shirt, looking anywhere but her.

"Hermione. Why don't you go turn down your bed. I'll tuck you in." Hermione shrieked in happiness, racing toward her bedroom.

"Malfoy. Declan told me to warn you. She has a tendency to snog anyone handy when she's inebriated."  
"I gathered."

"Must say though, I'm proud of you. Sixth year Draco would have shagged her." Daphne removed her robe, hanging it on the coat rack near the front door.

"I wanted to." Draco mumbled, while pouring another much needed glass of firewhisky.

"Yet, you didn't. That says something. After I tuck her in, I need to speak with you. It's important." She tossed her wavy tresses over her shoulder, opening Hermione's bedroom door.

Daphne smiled spying the sleeping Hermione. Carefully, she drew the quilt over her friend, brushing tangles from her forehead.

"What a mess. Don't worry, Sweetie. I'll fix it. Promise." With a gentle kiss on her forehead, Daphne quietly exited.

"Malfoy. Calm down. I'm not Blaise, Theo or even Declan. Your secret's safe with me." Daphne reclined on an armchair, a glass of wine dangling between her fingers while Draco nervously paced the intimate space.

"Secret? What secret? I haven't a secret." He rubbed the back of his neck, oblivious to the fact, Daphne knew him better than he knew himself. Her laughter rang loud.

"Draco. Based on your behaviour this evening, you liked snogging her. She most definitely didn't seem to mind, encouraged it actually and you feel guilty."

"I didn't. I don't. Stop looking at me like that." Draco sunk into the leather sofa. "My father will kill me." He paled at the thought.

"I have a solution. Well, your choice of solutions, both of which will save you from your father's wrath." Daphne watched Draco's reaction carefully. She knew she would have to tread carefully. If it was her idea or anyone else's for that matter, he would completely reject it. However, if he believed it was his idea, well, anything was possible.

"What then?" His knuckles whitened, clutching the tumbler between his hands. Daphne's cheshire cat smile flitted across her mouth, her eyebrows raising.

"Blaise has agreed, under protest to dissolve our marriage. Which of course, leaves me free to complete the blasted Blood Contract between our families. I've informed Blaise if we were to..." She gulped for effect, "do this. I'd want him to marry Hermione. She needs to be protected and he's her best bet. Added bonus, I'd be able to visit with her. I've grown quite fond of our little Gryffindor." She sipped her wine slowly.

"You'd...he'd...do that for me? I'd never ask you to do that. You were promised to him. It's not your fault your sister...you shouldn't be forced to take her place. I can't let you...I won't let you do it. Not even to please my father. I'm not worth it. Not really." Daphne did not expect this sudden turn in events. She expected him to smirk, roll his eyes and make his usual snarky comments.

"Draco Malfoy. Don't you listen to your father. Don't you dare. You're right. He would murder you. I can't allow that to happen if I can change it. Stop it. You're still an arse. You'll always be an arse, but that's simply who you are. You are not your father. Thank Merlin. I'd murder you."

"He'd prefer it if I were him. I don't want to be. Sometimes, I wonder.."

"Stop it." Daphne smashed the wine glass into the fireplace, mentally reminding herself to buy Declan another. Draco slumped, throwing his feet onto the couch.

"What's the other bloody option. The first one I veto. On principle alone. I'm not going to destroy the few friends I have left. I've destroyed enough." He also detested even the idea of Blaise touching Granger, but he wasn't willing to admit to such things.

"Ok. Drunk Draco is a complete downer. He's giving me a headache. Make it stop, love." Blaise slammed the door behind him, laughing at the thump behind him. "Nott and Dec are behind me. Bloody snogging. That's not how I envisioned my wedding night." Blaise shuddered.

"Be quiet! You'll wake her!" Daphne smacked her husband's arm lightly accepting the kiss he offered.

"I believe we were discussing my second option before we were so rudely interrupted by your lout of a husband." Draco smirked yet it didn't reach his eyes. He was trying, Daphne had to give him that.

"Actually, it's Hermione's idea. Polyjuice. We'll just have to find you a witch you can stand, though honestly Hermione prefers Theo's suggestion. I'm sure if you asked her, she'd speak to the Minister for you." Daphne smothered her amusement as Draco's face transformed with disgust.

Declan and Theo stumbled through the door. Blaise snorted, irritated with their behaviour. Declan's shirt was untucked and Theo's tie was askew, it was obvious they had been occupied.

"You disgust me." Blaise's lip curled. As much as he tried to accept Theo's lifestyle it still managed to chafe. Declan laughed heartily, slipping his arm through Theo's.

"We're aware." With a wicked gleam in his blue eyes, Declan kissed Blaise on the cheek, scurrying away at his angry growl.

"I KNOW WHERE YOUR MOUTH HAS BEEN!" Winking, Theo zipped his trousers innocently. Blaise scourgified his mouth numerous times before shoving his face into the bathroom basin.

"That was..." Daphne shook her head, her shoulders shaking with silent mirth.

"Granger's blowing."

"Not it!" Declan and Theo shouted in unison. Daphne sighed, heading into the washroom.

"Did you tell him yet?"

"Tell who what?" Draco was having difficulty keeping up with the speed of conversation around him.

"Did Dec tell you he's gotta jet? Work shit." Blaise searched through the kitchen cabinets, intent on discovering a hidden nibble.

"Granger going with you then?" Theo couldn't contain himself. He tripped over his large feet, landing with a rather loud thump on the rug in front of the fireplace. The peals of laughter ringing through the silence.

"Spouses only. Don't have one of those; though it looks my boyfriend's gone a bit mental..." Declan turned the sconces down, which eased the ache of his head and sighed. It was pleasant, the silence and he reveled in it knowing it wouldn't last much longer. It never did.

* * *

"LET ME IN YOU FUCKING BITCH! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" The cosy flat shook with the incessant pounding.

"How the hell did he get through the wards?" Blaise hissed, all of them instinctively dropping to the floor.

"He's the bloody Head Auror. License to be psychotic!" Declan hissed back. "Nox." He whispered, extinguishing all the nights, hoping the Minister's wards kept the lunatic at the front door from seeing inside.

"We can't hex him. We'll wind up in Azkaban." Theo gushed nervously, crawling toward the washroom to warn Daphne.

"Malfoy. Dec. Zabini. Washroom. Now. Theo, put Hermione to bed. I'll take care of the insect. Keep her quiet." Brown eyes consumed with rage, she lit a singular lamp, removed her shoes, tousled her hair and opened the door.

"Harry? What are you doing here at this hour?" For effect, Daphne yawned, rubbing her forehead in feigned confusion.

"Greengrass? What the FUCK. Where's Hermione?!" Harry Potter looked like a madman. His pupils were monstrous, his dark hair which had always been a bit wild, was plastered on his forehead, yet sticking in multiple directions on the sides. His palms were sweating, his chest heaving and his wand was stuck directly against Daphne Zabini's throat.

"Harry. I don't know what's going on, but she's sleeping. Had a bit of a rough night. I'm sure you understand. I'll make sure she owls you tomorrow." Although she was a bit off kilter by the maniac in front of her, she kept her composure, attempting to close the door.

"Where's Malfoy?" The thin ring of green searched her face, his lips curled into a snarl.

"Not here, Harry. Would you like me to tell her anything? I could do that if you like." Daphne had no intention of delivering any message, but any information she garnered would be put to good use.

"Yeah, actually. Tell her I'll be back soon. Those wards were absolutely pathetic and uhm, make sure to tell her _friend_ Rosier to have a bloody good trip." Snarling, his face filled with malice, he stomped down the concrete steps, Disapparating just beyond the garden gate.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

"He's fucking insane."

"She can't stay here."

"He's the bastard who pushed through my orders! No one else bloody knows yet!" The angry voices jumbled together but it was Declan Daphne turned toward.

"Why do you think that Dec? He's an Auror, you're...well, I don't know what you bloody do, but you're not an Auror, of that I'm sure." Daphne kept her voice low, hoping the boys were smart enough to stick a Silencing Charm on the washroom.

"Can't tell you. Can't tell anyone. However, I can say I report directly to the Minister. My assignments are always fucking confidential, unless it's been requested, then that particular Department of the Ministry is aware." Declan shook with rage.

"Harry Potter is mental. Dec, can't you just, take Granger with you anyway?" Draco was the first to speak, finding himself actually worried about the tiny Gryffindor.

"No, Malfoy. I bloody can't."

"Why not? She's friends with the bloody Minister, I'm sure he could arrange it if he knew her safety was in question." Blaise snorted, shaking his head slowly. It was obvious Draco cared about the Gryffindor, obvious to everyone but him apparently.

"There are rules that not even the Minister can refute, Malfoy. So unless I marry her, she stays here. I mean, I would of course if that was the only option but I believe Theo would object to that." Theo glared before lying his head in Declan's lap.

"There's got to be something..."

"You fucking marry her." Theo spit. Blaise and Daphne held their breath. They shared a glance and wouldn't it be just like Daphne to wink at her husband.

"Alright." Draco slammed back another glass of firewhisky, deciding in that moment, it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever done. "My life is ruined regardless. Might as well do something good with it. Potter's going to kill her. Can't have that. He'd never get through the wards on the Manor without alerting us, wait, I can't bring her there. She'd never have that. My place has fantastic wards, better than these. Sorry Dec, but you know my father and his ridiculous obsession with the old magic. If my father's going to plot my murder, might as well give him a good reason. Dec wouldn't have to fret. Theo wouldn't have to shoot daggers. Blaise and Daphne could stay exactly the way you are. There's worse people to be bonded to for life right? I mean, at least she's not Pansy." Daphne gagged, Blaise snorted and Theo vomited in Declan's lap.

"Completely unnecessary, Nott. Scourgify." Regardless of the cleaning spell, Declan removed his slacks with disdain.

"You'd really do that for her, for us?" Daphne gently prodded, quite proud of her old friend.

"She might be Granger and incredibly irritating at times, but no one deserves to live like this. She's a right mess. Father will be furious the moment he uncovers the truth of course, but even he won't be able to refute the need. He's the bastard who demanded I always rise to the occasion, well if this isn't the occasion, I don't know what is." Draco surprised himself with his conclusion, but in the deep recesses of his heart, he knew it was the right decision. The fact that he was unequivocally attracted to the witch had nothing to do with it, at least that's what he was telling himself.

"I want it in writing, Malfoy." Blaise slipped a piece of parchment from his pocket.

"I'm not going to steal your wife, Zabini."

"Writing. Now. You're drunk." Blaise wrote a few words on the parchment with a quill, Daphne thrust into his waiting hand. Draco didn't bother to read the words, simply signing his name, sealing it with his magic. "Daphne, wake Granger, get her to sign."

"Blaise. She's drunk. That's not.."

"He's drunk. Doesn't matter. Do it." Draco fell asleep on the sofa mere seconds after scrawling his signature. Daphne slipped out of the room quietly while Blaise smiled.

"Can't believe we pulled this shit off."

"They're going to kill us." Declan laughed, unconsciously stroking Theo's slumbering head.

* * *

To say Hermione Granger was furious once her hangover abated was an understatement. All the ranting and the raving in the world wouldn't change the piece of parchment emblazoned with her name, sealed with her magic.

Draco Malfoy on the other hand, was much more amicable. He grunted, rubbed his eyes and with a succinct "fuck off" went back to sleep.

"You've got to leave! Dec, you're late for your meeting. Theo, just get out. Blaise and Daphne, shouldn't you be home shagging? MALFOY! GET YOUR ARSE OFF THE SOFA!" Hermione scurried nervously around the flat, picking up wayward pieces of discarded laundry, preparing a platter of treats for tea and shoving her roommate and company out the door.

"Granger. If you're always this loud, I request separate bedrooms."

"Malfoy, shut your face and bathe. Your mother will be arriving half past the hour. Oh dear, I do hope Dec remembered to lift access on the Floo."

"Are you always this bloody irritating?" Draco Malfoy clutched his head desperately wishing the room would stop spinning and the high pitched mewling would cease.

"Malfoy, I've started the water, there's a fresh towel by the basin. Your robes are cleaned and hanging on the hook. Please bathe, you're late as it is." Hermione rolled her eyes, slamming her bedroom door, intent upon finding the perfect outfit for tea. When she emerged, the water was still running and grumbles of complaint wafted under the door. She checked her reflection, tucking wayward curls behind her ear, while smoothing the pleats of her mint green skirt, tucking in her white blouse when the Floo flashed green. Hermione rushed to the washroom door, slipping on a pair of white sandals.

"Oi! Malfoy! MOVE YOUR ARSE!"

"Bitch." Draco shut off the water, snatching the plush towel to dry his hair.

"Bastard."

"Hermione!" Only Narcissa Malfoy could step from a fireplace with elegance. Her long blonde hair was pulled back, her blue eyes sparkling with delight. She looked forward to her weekly teas with the Muggle-born witch. Her sister had suggested their first meeting. Naturally she had baulked against it, watching the witch for weeks before approaching her. Narcissa respected Hermione's composure and intelligence.

"Cissa! Oh it's lovely to see you. Please, sit. I'll bring in the tray..."

"Hermione, there is no need to fret. I had assumed my owl would cause a bit of mayhem. It's not often I am forced to alter our plans for tea, but something rather important has come up and I simply needed to speak with you." A crash and a string of curses interrupted her conversation.

"Shit!" Hermione cringed, hoping she had a few moments before Draco made his presence known.

"Cissa, forgive me. I'll be but a moment." Narcissa eyed the witch with suspicion, yet she wavered, knowing Hermione as she did, she gave her the benefit of the doubt. Though she was hard pressed to believe Hermione didn't have a wizard concealed in her flat. Hermione slipped into the washroom.

"What the fuck, Granger!" Hermione cringed. Draco was pulling his trousers on, cursing the wet floor.

"Shut up! Get dressed! Move your arse!" She hissed, shoving his robe at him.

"Stop ordering me around Granger! What the fuck is your problem!" He thrust his arms through his freshly laundered dress shirt angrily.

"Language!"

"YOU'RE NOT MY FUCKING MOTHER!" Draco bellowed, knowing if they continued this way, they would never make it to the altar. He would definitely murder her first.

"That's RIGHT. I'm NOT. SHE'S IN THE OTHER ROOM! MOVE YOUR ARSE!" Hermione slammed the door behind her.

"Bitch."

"I heard that!"

"IT'S NOT A SECRET GRANGER!" Hermione ground her teeth, took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen. She carried the tea tray laden with biscuits and tea cups toward Narcissa Malfoy. She noticed the regal woman was hiding behind her hand. She dabbed the corner of her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief before facing Hermione.

"I gather my son is here?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry...really I am. We were at dinner and there was a discussion of the Blood Contract being signed and well..."

"Oh my dear, it was only a matter of time. Couldn't hide from him forever, I suppose." Draco froze on the wrong side of the door. He couldn't move. He hadn't heard his mother's voice in years yet there she was, having tea with Hermione Granger.

"I do hope Harry Potter has been keeping his distance. Most unpleasant fellow. I personally was never fond of him, less so now." Narcissa's eyebrow arched, waiting for her friend to divulge the secret weighing upon her.

"Well, Harry's been a bit persistent as of late, last night in fact, hence the reason Malfoy is here..." A petite, honey coloured owl pecked persistently at the closed windows. She plucked the sealed parchment from its beak, shoving it back out the window before slamming it shut. "So many interruptions today. Would you care for some tea?" Narcissa smiled kindly, nodding.

"Will my son be making an appearance?"

"Merlin only knows, honestly." Her eyes fell onto the familiar script on the front of the parchment. Hermione's chest constricted, her vision blurring slightly.

"Are you alright, my dear? You look a bit piqued." Hermione sunk slowly next to Narcissa, accepting the offered brimming tea cup.

"It's nothing. It's from Harry. Wasn't expecting it. That's all."

"Perhaps it is nothing. Work related? Though, as an Auror I can't say I'd even begin to understand why he'd be sending you a missive. Is it often the Auror Department contacts your section of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? I suppose the two would work closely together, but I was under the assumption you were strictly devoted to contracts. Give it here dear, I'll read it for you." Narcissa plucked the parchment off the table, carefully breaking the seal, her eyes widening at the large, profane script.

"Draco. Please come out. You've hidden long enough. Hermione needs to be relocated immediately." Narcissa's voice carried through the thin walls, and Draco couldn't help himself from stepping forward.

He felt as if he were a young child, hiding from his parents since he had done something naughty. Except, this time, he was the adult, he had stayed, it was his mother who had runaway. Slowly he cracked the door, spying his mother just as he remembered her. Perfectly coifed hair, regal dark blue dress robes even her wedding rings twinkling in the sunlight. He carried himself forward until he stood at Hermione's elbow. His mother stared at the parchment in her hand, it trembling slightly.

"Mother." Draco attempted to maintain his facade of composure, yet the moment he looked into her pools of blue, he crumbled. While his family had never been prone to moments of emotional expression, his arms found their way around his mother, gripping her tight and it was Hermione Granger which had brought them together. He'd never be able to repay such a debt; marrying her to protect her from a decidedly psychotic Harry Potter was the least he could do.

"Oh Draco, how I've missed you." Narcissa's voice broke while clutching her son to her. "You must tell me everything I've missed. Later. Right now, we need to get Hermione somewhere secure. Harry Potter is on a rampage. He's coming for her."

"Potter? Are you sure?" Narcissa reluctantly released her son, pressing the parchment into his waiting hands. She watched his ire rise while scanning the venomous words.

_*Hermione,_

_You can't hide from me you deceitful bitch. I'll teach you. I'm coming for you. You think I didn't see? Snogging that piece of filth? Just you fucking wait, you dirty whore. Do you remember? I'll never forget your naked body...*_

Draco set the parchment on fire, refusing to continue. He felt nauseous. Sure, he had always detested Harry Potter, but this was something different. Harry Potter was mentally deranged and he had his sights set on Hermione Granger. The Girl Who Dared Reject Him.

"Granger, pack a bag. Mother, Granger and I can't use the Floo Network nor can we Apparate. Declan arranged the wards and I'm sure we haven't the time to adjust them. You'll need to Apparate obviously. I would suggest leaving here via the Floo. Potter won't be able to trace your magical signature that way. I don't live at the Manor so definitely don't go there unless you're looking forward to facing Father. I live near the place you brought me once as a child. Meet us there."

"With the ducks?" Narcissa nodded, stepping into the fireplace. Draco's head whipped around, listening to the sounds of spells being cast outside, breaking through the wards. The maniacal laughter was chilling him to the bone. He knew then, Harry Potter would kill them if they didn't vacate the premises immediately.

"Yes. Mother, please, go. We'll be there, promise." Draco kissed her cheek quickly, tossing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace before rushing into Hermione's bedroom. "Granger, hurry. He's here. We'll have to slip out the back." Hermione stood silently, not moving. Draco grabbed the brown beaded bag out of her hands, shoving random articles of clothing into it, thankful she had cast the Undetectable Extension Charm. Snatching her arm, he dragged her through the kitchen, cracking the back door before stepping into the garden.

"Just leave me, Malfoy. He'll never stop. He'll win. He wins everything." If he had the time he would have comforted her, she sounded so lost and dejected. Draco would worry about soothing her later; instead, he stunned her and threw her over his shoulder before scurrying outside the garden and Disapparated.

"Draco! Is she alright? He didn't..." Narcissa spied her son beside the pond filled with ducks. She remembered the first time she slipped away from her controlling husband, seeking a few moments of peace. She brought Draco here, Muggle London to feed the ducks.

"I stunned her." He shrugged, "She was dawdling and Potter was quickly working his way through the wards." Draco slipped Hermione to her feet, muttering under his breath to remove the spell.

"We should get her inside. I'm sure your wards vie your father's. She'll be safe there, for now."

"Why did you do that Malfoy? You should have left me behind! He can't find out about your mother! He'll tell Lucius and you know your father! Everything has escalated. There's more important things than me. You should have let me go!" Draco smirked, rolling his eyes, pulling her across the small bridge toward his estate. "Malfoy! Stop. It's not too late. Bring me back, I just.." Draco stopped short. Hermione crashed into his back with wide eyes, Narcissa a few steps behind. "Where are we? Where did you bring me? Are we still in Muggle London? Mal.." Draco silenced her instantly with his lips. They pressed gently, until she relaxed, responding slowly. Her mouth opened and he took advantage, plunging into her, until her fingers dug into his forearm and his mother cleared her throat.

"You talk too much, Granger. Shut up." Hermione gasped, instinctually slapping him before stomping across the narrow bridge. "Bitch."

"I heard that!"

"It's NOT a secret, Granger!" Narcissa uncharacteristically snorted taking in the scene around her.

"Whatever are you going to do with her Draco?" Her blue eyes sparkled, teasing her son. Draco glanced over his shoulder, almost forgetting his mother was truly there.

"Marry her."


	4. Bound to Lose, Bound to Win

Chapter 4 - Bound to Lose, Bound to Win

* * *

Harry Potter blasted the furniture his wife was behind with glee. He allowed her to run from the room, his son cradled in her arms.

"You can't stop me. NO ONE CAN STOP ME! I'LL HAVE HER. I'll have her yet." He cackled maniacally, kicking splintered bits of wood from his path. His scar burned. It always burned lately. In the beginning he valiantly tried to fight the feelings of rage, the hatred, but without _her_ it was impossible.

She didn't understand how much he needed her. How much he loved her. He wouldn't rest until she was his. He'd make her understand. He was never going to let her go. She was his. He just needed to find her and explain. She'd understand once he explained. She'd love him then. She had managed to slip through his grasp when he finally broke through the wards of her flat and he hadn't been able to find her since. It was driving him mad with need, with want. She had quickly become his obsession and he refused to rest until she was his once more.

"Harry, please." Cho's gentle brogue broke through his concentration. "Let us go." She desperately wished to see the wizard she had married before her, but she was sorely disappointed. Harry had changed before her very eyes. He had been sweet, kind and incredibly loving in their early days. She loved that man. She wanted to build a life, a family, with that man.

It had happened suddenly, not even a year after they had wed. He left for work with a smile and a kiss, returning filled with an incomprehensible rage and obsession. She discovered it was an interrogation. Harry and the other Aurors had captured some Death Eaters. One of them, Yaxley if she remembered correctly, had cast an unfamiliar spell prior to escaping. It had caught Harry in the heart, altering his personality and his life. Cho had desperately tried to convince him to seek help, but the demanding voice in his head directed him now.

She had blamed herself in the beginning. She had believed her demands of a Hermione-Granger-free-life had caused the rift between them, but she was wrong. It wasn't that she hated Hermione, she didn't. The Gryffindor was quite likable; it was simply that Cho wished to keep her husband to herself. She didn't want to share. She was resentful of the relationship between Harry and Hermione which had been forged in their childhood. Quite honestly she had been terrified Hermione would unintentionally steal Harry away from her once Ron had died and now, she would gladly give Harry away. It wasn't his fault, Cho knew that as well, but it didn't abate her fear of the wizard in the least.

Harry Potter was simply a puppet on a string. If he had fought against it, if had chosen to go to the Minister for Magic, if he had done anything other than embrace the madness, there would have been hope. As it was, Cho had a terrible feeling another wizarding war was well on its way. This time, it wouldn't be Voldemort they were fighting against. It would be Harry Potter.

* * *

Draco didn't want the writhing witch beneath him. He wanted the infuriating Gryffindor, but he would rather eat slugs than admit to such things. She was a pretty witch and she liked him well enough, but he couldn't feign interest. He vaguely recalled bringing her home at the end of a night spent drinking with Theo, yet here he was, trying to shag her. Trying being the operative word. She kept trying to snog him which disgusted him for reasons he didn't quite understand. He rolled off her, disgusted with himself.

Draco Malfoy had never been able to resist a pretty witch before Granger. He shagged his way through Hogwarts and had planned to continue such behaviours well into his impending marriage to Daphne Greengrass. Except. He wasn't marrying Daphne Greengrass. He was marrying Hermione Granger.  
It was for her protection he convinced himself. She needed someone to keep her safe and he could be that person. Even if she drove him out of his mind. Even if he wanted to shag her senseless. Even if he wanted to lose himself in her.

And yet, she remembered the way he took his tea. She laid out fresh robes for him. She always had fresh towels laid out the moment he mentioned a bath. He lived for her smiles and when he was lucky enough to receive one, he wanted to ravish her. Every bloody time.

The pert blonde, sat up, her breasts bouncing. Draco closed his eyes; he didn't want to see her face. He felt her hop off the bed and assumed she was dressing. He hadn't given her anything worth staying for as it was.

His mind wandered to the curly haired brunette, now living in his house. She was probably shopping with his mother, laughing at something or other. Her face lighting up with delight, the tiny dimple on the corner of her mouth no one had ever noticed before peaking at him. The curve of her lips when she smiled or even as they plumped after a vigorous snogging. He ached for her. He almost welcomed the eager hand encircling him, until he heard the slam of a door.

"Shit. Stop touching me. Get out." Hermione stopped short outside his bedroom. She knew he had brought a woman home the previous evening but she also knew he passed out mumbling on the sofa, before stumbling to his room in the wee small hours of the morning. She pressed her ear against the door.

"I don't have to leave. Looks like you're quite happy to see me." She giggled, increasing her grip. Her laughter made Hermione cringe; it reminded her of Peeves cackle. She heard a thump.

"It's not for you. GET OUT!" Hermione chose that moment to have a bit of fun. She threw open the door nonchalantly.

"Malfoy, your mother purchased your dress robes for the ceremony..." Hermione pretended to falter, her eyes widening at the scene before her.

A buxom blonde scrambled to her feet, clutching her blouse closed while Draco threw a pillow over his obvious erection. Draco gulped audibly, his eyes flicking between the woman next to bed and the witch at his door.

"Granger. I can...I can explain." The curvy witch's eyes narrowed.

"You're her then. I see. Don't call me." She pushed passed Hermione, but found herself on the other end of a wand to her throat.

"I'm who exactly?"

"The completely ordinary witch he's obsessed with. Bastard spent half the morning mumbling 'Granger' in his sleep. Bet Harry Potter would pay a pretty penny to discover your whereabouts." Hermione lost her temper then, fumbling in her pockets for her wand, but she was beaten to the punch.

"OBLIVIATE!" Narcissa rushed down the hallway, grasping the slag by the elbow and dragged the dazed witch away, holding her tongue.

Hermione spun toward Draco, to find his bed empty. She marched through the bedchamber discovering him browsing through random articles of clothing in his closet.

"What were you thinking?!" Draco ignored her, flipping through his slacks before choosing a pair. He slipped into them, his back turned.

He honestly didn't understand her supposed anger. It's not as if they were in a relationship or even really liked each other when it came down to it. They fought all the time. He infuriated her as often as she drove him to madness. They were simply getting married. It's happened throughout time. Many couples married for convenience, they were the same.

"What's it matter, Granger?" Draco venomously spat, furious with his intended. "She's just a slag. You should get used to seeing them about." He smirked, watching the colour drain from her face.

"It's not...it's not that, Malfoy. I-I don't care how many slags you shag. She threatened me. You have to give me warning! Any one of them could run right off to Harry and then where would we be?!"  
Hermione knew they had a simple business arrangement, but she couldn't ignore the wave of hurt as it washed over her.

It was of no consequence how devilishly handsome she found the bastard. He got under her skin the way no other ever had. She was quite fond of the moments when his platinum hair fell into his eyes before he raked it away with his fingertips. She often cast curious glances at him when he wasn't looking, admiring him from afar. It was natural to grow fond of someone after spending months together.

She was incredibly fond of Declan, missing him desperately and Malfoy was simply filling a void. Once it was safe and she could see Declan regularly, everything would go back to the way it was. She convinced herself of this, as the grey eyes darkened.

"Where. Is. She." Hermione retreated from him, still wary of his fury.

"Y-your mother took care of it." She found herself backed to his bed; halting her yet still he advanced. Hermione sat, finding herself eye level with his unclad abdomen. She backed away from him still, intent on escaping him. She hadn't considered this scenario. With a yelp she slid across his bed, wishing she had never entered. He grabbed her ankle, dragging her toward him, crawling over her, trapping her beneath him.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy? Get off me." Draco laughed. He enjoyed watching her squirm in unease.

"You succinctly ended my morning's play, thought you might enjoy taking her place."

"How dare you! I'm not one of your slags! You don't get to snog me after you've...you've..." Hermione sputtered, outraged as much as she was aroused.

"Done nothing. I don't snog slags, never have. Apparently, I don't shag them either." The confession was completely unintended. He didn't really want her to know he was unable to perform with the women he'd brought home.

"Y-you don't?" He kissed the pulse pounding in the side of her neck.

"Not since you."

"W-why not?" Emboldened by her acceptance of his advances, he slowly lowered himself beside her.

"Saving myself for marriage." Her light laughter was music to his ears. He kissed her jaw, working his way toward her earlobes. When she sighed, making no move to extricate herself, he slid a palm under her blouse craving the feel of her. Hermione tensed but didn't shove him away or slap him, which was progress.

"W-why. It's not...necessary." Hermione gasped, realising his hand was working its way up her body. "T-there's not...w-we don't...have infidelity c-clause." He unbuttoned her pink blouse, spreading it open while claiming her lips.

"Do now. Added it." He nipped her neck urgently. Hermione pushed him away, sitting up, trying to gather her blouse together. Draco refused to remove his hand from her ribs.

"Why did you do that?!" She bit the corner of her lip, her eyes focused on the incredibly pale hand against her.

"Fuck, Granger. Why do you have to be so bloody difficult? Why? I'll tell you why." As if she were nothing more than a child, he twisted her, crashing her back into his chest. Impatiently, he shoved her hair out of his face.

"Malfoys don't bloody stray. Regardless of whom they happen to marry. I don't want them. Not any of them. I want you and I hate myself for it. I'm tired of fighting against it and I'm not going to any longer."

She was so bloody infuriating. Draco was used to witches throwing themselves at him, begging him to take them to bed. Yet the one bloody witch, who made his blood boil and his body ache, refused him. It was enough to infuriate anyone. He ripped her blouse down her arms, tossing it across the room. He lowered her bra straps, kissing her shoulders gently before returning to her neck. He felt her chest heave.

Hermione knew she should leave. She should be angry. She should slap him, scream at him, throw something at him, but she didn't. Instead she turned, her tanned, lightly freckled arm slipping around him. She touched his face, to discover those steel grey eyes boring into her.

Draco groaned against her mouth, settling her in his lap. Deft fingers unclasped her bra, adding it to the growing pile of clothing. Hermione tangled herself around him, her nails digging into his shoulders, yanking his hair, throwing caution to the wind, allowing herself to be consumed. She had never experienced this need bursting forth, as her limbs trembled.

"Merlin, Granger." Draco didn't know how much longer he'd be able to resist her.

She didn't have a bloody clue what she was doing to him. She rocked her pelvis against his, feeling somewhat proud of her naïveté, hearing the guttural groan against her throat. She felt as if all the blood in her body was rushing to her head the moment his mouth descended upon her breast. Draco rolled her onto her back, enamored with her curls spread across his bed. Hermione Granger was in his bed. He stroked her inner thigh slowly working his way toward the knickers beyond his field of vision. He brushed against them, ecstatic to find them damp. She wanted him. Draco slipped his palm into her knickers, holding his breath. Hermione whimpered quietly, her bottom lip caught in her teeth, her brows furrowed. He wanted to see her face the first time he touched her without a haze of firewhisky swirling around them.

He brushed the mop of hair from her forehead while studying her dilated brown eyes. She sucked a gulp of oxygen between her teeth as his fingers slid through her folds, in the gentlest of caresses. Hermione expected him to smirk or make some other snide comment upon feeling the wet nature of her knickers but he smiled. She couldn't believe he smiled but she didn't have the chance to dwell upon it. She moaned from the sensation of it all, spurring him on further. Draco fondled her in such a way, she ached for more. Hermione was twitching beneath his palm, her responses begging him to do so much more. Her eyes shut when he slipped a finger inside her, thrusting it so slowly she swore she was being tortured. He felt her limbs trembling and wished only to sink into her when the rapid knock on his door stopped him cold.

He couldn't ignore the incessant pounding as much as he wished otherwise. His door shook and he knew as much as he desired her, it would have to wait.

"Malfoy! Get up you lazy arse! Daphne demands we bring Granger to Diagon Alley! She has to practice!"

Narcissa had suggested he wait in the drawing room, offering him libation. She knew Hermione and her son were ensconced in his room and while she did not know exactly what they were doing, she had an inkling considering the instantaneous silence in the middle of their row. Blaise Zabini would hear nothing of it.

The impending nuptials were obviously affecting Blaise negatively. He stomped through Draco's modest estate pounding on each closed door, determined to find the bastard. Daphne rolled her eyes, accepted the glass of wine, sitting next to Narcissa.

"They're together, aren't they?" Daphne watched her husband with mirth, used to his antics by now. Narcissa allowed a small smile to grace her features with a slight nod. "I knew it! He'll never admit it but he's quite taken with her." Narcissa remained silent. She vowed to keep their secrets until such time they admitted to themselves how far their affection actually flowed.

"No! I won't fuck off! GET UP! Where's Granger?" Blaise punched the door, taking a moment to breath.

"Wait. Is she in there? With you?" Hermione brushed silky strands of mussed hair from Draco's brow, drawing his attention back to her.

"We should go." Draco knew he should listen to her before Blaise broke down the door, but he wanted to stay exactly where they were.

"So you don't want me to do this then?" The lightest touch between her folds, not probing, simply exploring caused her back to arch involuntarily, which Draco used to his advantage by running his tongue along her voluptuous mounds.

"Malfoy." He groaned in frustration.

"That's not an answer, love. You don't want me to do this either then?" He pressed into her, his cock twitching in his trousers as the pearled nub hardened beneath the pad of his thumb.

'I don't...I can't...Blaise will...come right in...and...no audience, Malfoy." Hermione managed to formulate some semblance of a coherent sentence though how she was managed, eluded her.

"Fine. Fine. Ten days? You're mine." Hermione was under the misconception Draco was simply consumed by lust. She didn't understand it, since it wasn't a natural occurrence in her life, but she wasn't about to deny a longing of her own.

She rolled off the bed, gathering her clothing, wondering how quickly he would tire of her once their relationship was consummated. It didn't irk her as much as she thought it would. It was a simple business arrangement after-all. She practically chanted those words under her breath daily, willing herself to believe them. She was incapable of comprehending the attachments which would be formed. Hermione buttoned her blouse, smoothed her tangled tresses and smiled. Draco had flung an arm over his eyes.

"Coming?" Draco bet himself she looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful, even when he hated her. He refused to give himself the satisfaction of gazing upon her.

"Obviously not," He snarled. "I need a minute." He listened to the sounds of her feet upon the hardwood, signaling her departure.

"Didn't actually think she was in here." Blaise crossed his arms, his large frame against the wall.

"I hate you." Draco leapt off the bed, ignoring the smirk on his friend's face. He felt a bit better after splashing cold water down his torso and dressing.

"You dress for her now." Blaise snickered, enjoying Draco's discomfort. He and Daphne had spent many a night discussing the obtuse couple.

"I happen to love these robes." Draco laced his dark boots, unsuccessfully attempting to purge Hermione Granger from his mind's eye.

"Never wore 'em before." Blaise chided, "In fact, if I remember correctly, Granger was scouring your closet and tossed you those exact robes insisting they complemented the colour of your eyes."

"You sound like a woman."

"You're acting like one." Blaise quipped. "C'mon. I like to watch the transformation." With a lighthearted shove, Blaise wandered down the hall toward the make-shift laboratory. He stood in the doorway, watching his wife swish and flick, half a dozen bubbling cauldrons along the back wall.

He had been in love with Daphne Greengrass for as long as he could remember. She never ceased to amaze him with devotion to him. She could have refused him and married Draco Malfoy but she didn't. She chose him and he'd never let her forget it.

Blaise snuck behind her, planting a quick kiss on her shoulder. She jumped, smacking him, but her eyes laughed.

"You're ruining my concentration Blaise! This is important. We've barely an hour before our meeting with the Minister. We have to pull this off. It's the only day this week Potter is occupied. He'll be out of the office for a few hours at least. Yaxley has been sighted." Daphne bounced on the tips of her toes with excitement.

"Still don't like this. Not one bit. If the Minister denies the request we're out of options. By all means, keep bouncing though." Daphne pressed herself into her husband, brushing away the furrows in his forehead.

"I have the letters, darling. Declan finally owled me their location. He's been in such a bloody tizzy lately. If Shacklebolt hears us out, maybe we'll even be able to show him Hermione's memories and this whole fiasco will be over. Well, as far as Potter is concerned."

"How long am I going to have to watch my wife play Granger? That's the only thing that concerns me." Blaise grumbled, avoiding the persistent caresses of his wife. Her fingertips danced across his chest, trying to ease the angst.

"If the Minister listens to reason? Ten days from today will be the last time I ever drink Essence of Granger. If Draco actually allowed us to petition the Minister it could have been over by now. He's ridiculously stubborn." Daphne resumed pressing, dicing and chopping ingredients for their newest batch of Polyjuice Potion. Blaise pulled himself out of his self imposed melancholy, taking in the shelves upon shelves filled with amber bottles.

"Where the fuck did you get all this Polyjuice?"

"Language." Two voices converged in unison as Hermione and Narcissa swept into the laboratory.

"In unison now. Isn't that bloody special." Blaise grumbled under his breath, willing Draco to save him. Daphne flashed a quick smile, frowning upon spying Hermione's attire.

"Mione, I'd never wear that. You must change."

"Don't call her that." Draco Malfoy stood just behind Hermione, his hand on the small of her back, steadying the growing tremble beneath his palm.

"Call her what? Mi.."

"I SAID...don't call her that." Daphne frowned observing Draco snake his arm around Hermione's waist protectively. "Breathe, Granger." The words might have been murmured against her cheek, yet the understanding flooded the room.

"Oh. Oh. I'm sorry, Hermione. I wasn't thinking." Daphne had the grace to flush with embarrassment.  
"You still have to change. Daphne Greengrass does NOT wear Muggle clothes. Try the green gown with the matching robes. The dark green one, with the silver clasp." Daphne siphoned the Potion into a vial, concealing it in one of her many pockets. "I don't care if I'm you this afternoon. No Muggle clothing." She winked trying to relieve the tension.

"Come along, dear." Narcissa extended her hand to Hermione, who stared past them, the feeling of Draco's body behind her, her only link to reality.

"Go with Mother, you'll be fine." Hermione heard him, felt him, but she was terrified. Her eyes followed Blaise, Daphne and finally Narcissa, leaving the couple to their own devices. Hermione couldn't contain the sob lodged in her throat.

"I don't want to do this. I can't do this. I.." Draco spun her by her shoulders, crushing her to him.

"Granger." He didn't have soothing words of comfort. He'd never been in such a predicament.

"No. Malfoy. It's...it's too much. If-if we fail? Harry's going to...and you're facing a Dementor's Kiss. Y-you can't tell me it'll be fine. It's a bloody mess. If I-I-I c-can't c-convince Shacklebolt..." Hermione couldn't continue as the sobs overcame her.

Draco wasn't surprised by her meltdown. He had been expecting it, but she had put on such a brave front. She was demanding as ever, planning everything down to the minute detail. He hadn't intended to care about her. That wasn't part of the deal and yet that was his reality. She brought his mother back into his life, for that, he'd move mountains for the quivering Gryffindor.

"Granger. Granger, listen to me. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I won't let him find you. I'll keep you safe. We haven't worked this bloody hard to watch it all slip away now. Sweetie, you've got to breathe." Draco shushed her, rubbing gentle circles along her lower back. She hiccupped into his chest, her hands clasped behind him.

"Why, why are you doing this?" She'd asked the question so many times over the past few weeks, he knew the answer by heart and yet he knew she needed something more than 'I promised'. This was a defining moment.

"Because, Granger. I promised, but." Draco paused searching for the words she needed. Her tousled hair brushed his chin as he met her gaze.

"But what?" She looked so incredibly vulnerable, he wished he could whisk her away from the world, but they had obligations to keep. Draco sighed, struggling with himself more than anything.

"It's not easy for me you realise. I'm aware it's quite difficult for you as well, don't interrupt. I didn't plan on...I didn't intend…dammit Granger. You drive me crazy. You realise this? You're irritating and annoying and quite demanding, truth be told. It's difficult to remain apathetic when you're always there. Smiling, laughing, bitching, complaining, picking out my clothes, insisting I clean up after myself...and" Draco stumbled over his words, irritated with himself and his inability to properly express himself It wasn't something he'd ever learned. His father despised the expression of emotions which left Draco lost.

"I'm sorry it's inconvenient having me here. I'm sure if you were given enough time you could have found a more suitable witch..."

"Granger. I said don't interrupt. You're a terrible listener as well, but I can't help it. I didn't want too. I've spent days arguing with Blaise and even Theo, but when it comes down to it, they were right. They were right and I just didn't want to admit it."

"You're not making much sense, Malfoy. We're going to be late." Hermione attempted to extricate herself, but he refused to release her until he had his say.

"I care about you." The words came out all jumbled together almost as if he were a teen wizard speaking to his first crush.

"It's alright, Malfoy. I'm better now. You don't have to say things you don't mean. You won't hurt my feelings." Hermione brushed the remaining tears from her cheeks, offering a tremulous smile. It faltered as she recognised the anger in the grey eyes looking down at her.

"Listen to me, woman. I've grown quite fond of you. No one can make me do anything I don't wish to do. Well, except the Minister for Magic, but last I checked, you were not him. It's not ideal conditions, but we can't change those. I could have wandered around and found a single witch easy on the eyes and eventually I would have wished I were dead.

'I've known you since you were eleven. I was a horrid child, mostly because I was jealous, while I'm being honest. You were always so incredibly passionate and your friends were so loyal. I never had that. Not then and I'm only learning now what I missed spending so much time listening to my father. I wonder how different things could have been if I hadn't been so afraid to be my own person. Well, I'm not afraid now, which is completely false. I'm bloody terrified, but that doesn't change my feelings. All you have to do is let me." Draco held his breath, watching the way her eyes flicked to various points on the wall behind him while she absorbed his monologue. Hermione bit the corner of her lip, her lashes lowered before flinging her limbs around his neck.

"Really? You're not taking the piss out of me then?" Draco kissed her forehead before gently cupping her face.

"So vulgar, Granger. I wouldn't dare make a mockery of something so bloody serious. You'll just have to come to terms with the fact that I, Draco Malfoy, care about you, Hermione Granger." He kissed her then. Not from the driving force of lust, simply because he wished too. She wasn't expecting the gentleness of his lips upon hers. She had snuck up on him and in those moments, he decided he didn't mind it, not one bit.

* * *

"I hate it." With a critical eye he varied between disgust and anger. Draco Malfoy knew it was necessary, and yet he absolutely detested watching Hermione Granger transform into Daphne Greengrass.

"You're not alone there." Blaise grudgingly took his wife's arm, his lip curling as he looked into the eyes of Hermione Granger.

"Blaise. Just because I'm wearing Hermione and she's wearing me doesn't change the way I feel about you. You'll have to do a better job pretending you're completely enamored with me if this is going to work."

"Draco." Narcissa Malfoy fastened her royal blue robes, her blue eyes smiling at her son.

"Mother. I can't bloody do this. I know Daphne is Hermione and Hermione is Daphne but I can't.." She found a certain sense of satisfaction watching him fume.

"Draco, you can do anything you put your mind too. I'm sure you weren't aware but I've always kept my eye on you. I left your father, never you. How do you think we managed to procure so many jars of Polyjuice Potion? How else was I going to venture among the very witches and wizards I'd been avoiding? It centers on confidence. If you believe she's your intended then she is. As simple as that. I've danced with your father concealed as a nondescript witch. I've had tea alongside Harry Potter. You'd be amazed and appalled by the things I've done for the sake of family. I was a shadow of my former self. I allowed Lucius to brow beat me into submission, to become someone I no longer recognised. Andromeda showed me the way. She reminded me of our strong, stubborn Black ancestry. The very same ancestry which resides in you Draco. As your mother, I refuse to stand idly by and watch you follow in your father's footsteps. Your father isn't a bad man, he simply lost his way. Hermione Granger is our family. You will not let her down. Daphne. My potion. We have engagements to keep." Narcissa downed the contents of the vial, stifling the revulsion from the taste. They watched her transform from a tall, willowy blonde into a short, robust brunette with sparkling blue eyes.

"Sweetie!" Declan Rosier burst into the drawing room of Willow Pond, full of smiles. He grabbed Daphne, spinning her in circles, smothering her face in kisses.

"Dec. I'm Daphne. Stop it."

"Stop snogging my wife, Malfoy!" Blaise drew his wand, his knuckles white with rage.

"She's not your wife Zabini!"

"Those are my wife's lips!"

"Hello, little witch. This is a shit show, now isn't it?!" Declan laughed, tossing his arm casually over the shoulders of the unfamiliar witch.

"Language." Declan jumped away as if he had been burned.

"Merlin's beard! Can I play too?" His blue eyes flitted from witch to wizard while he watched the commotion. "Theo! Theo over here, come watch! It's bloody amazing!"

"I don't know who is who!" Theo laughed, pointing at Malfoy as he scowled at Blaise snogging Daphne wearing Hermione's face. Narcissa clapped her hands loudly.

"Enough! Hermione. Daphne does not nod. Use your hands as you speak. Daphne. Hermione does not sway her hips. Tone it down. Draco and Blaise, whenever you find yourself angry, close your eyes and remember the witch in your arms is exactly whom you wish her to be. Come now. We're late." She magically shortened her robes, stalking outside the estate to the Apparition point.

"I'm so glad you're here, Declan. I wasn't sure you'd make it." Hermione felt incredibly uncomfortable walking down the halls of the Ministry.

"Chin up, Sweetie. We're almost there. I spoke to the Minister this morning and provided him all those letters I nicked. Is that really Malfoy's mum? She doesn't look like that does she?" Declan nudged Hermione with his hip, crashing her into Draco. He steadied her, shooting daggers at everyone daring to ogle his intended.

"Yes, it's Cissa. You'll meet her later. She really is quite lovely." She envied Daphne and Blaise. Even though Daphne was wearing her face, it was obvious how much he loved her.

Hermione always thought she'd marry for love, she never dreamed her life would turn into the circus it had become. She had dreamed of lace ivory gowns, outdoor ceremonies, love and laughter. Instead she was stepping into Kingsley Shacklebolt's office wearing her friend's face and shimmering pine green robes.

* * *

"You expect me to believe Harry Potter sent these?" Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt shook the numerous pieces of parchment, before flinging them across his desk.

"Minister, if I may?" It was difficult for Narcissa Malfoy to fade into the background. She was used to commanding the rapt attention of anyone in her presence. Kingsley grimaced but nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"First, who are you? What is your business here?" Narcissa's jaw clenched at the interruption, but she reminded herself it was illegal to hex the Minister for Magic.

"Narcissa Malfoy."

"I assumed as much. You're quite fortunate your husband is not as astute as I. Continue."

Hermione chewed her lip raw. She wished Declan had been allowed to accompany them. She hoped Blaise and Daphne were having a better time at a nearby bistro than she was. She thought it was ridiculous that 'she' would be casually having lunch while hiding from Harry Potter, but Blaise and Declan had attempted to explain the idea behind laying a false trail. She still disagreed but was unanimously overruled.

Draco wondered what was going through Granger's mind while they waited for Shacklebolt's decision. She was cutting the circulation in his hands, but he wasn't going to complain. She might look like Daphne, but her reactions were pure Granger.

"Sadly, due to the rashness of my son, I am unable to provide the letter Harry Potter sent Hermione Granger in my presence. I refuse to repeat such vile things in mixed company. It's hardly appropriate. I happened to be in her flat for tea, while he broke through the wards, intent on confronting the poor girl. I realise Mr. Harry Potter is your Head Auror, by your appointment no less. I realise how damaging it would be to not only your career but the Ministry itself if any of this were to come to light." Narcissa allowed herself a moment to revel in Shacklebolt's sudden discomfort.

"Are you threatening me Mrs. Malfoy?" The Minister cleared his throat, a light sheen of sweat upon his dark brown brow.

"Minister Shacklebolt, I'm surprised at you. I would _never_ make idle threats against the Ministry for Magic. I'm a Malfoy after-all." She smiled demurely and if Narcissa Malfoy wasn't his mother, Draco would have been quaking in fear. "Now. My son is locked into a Blood Contract with Daphne Greengrass. Before you interrupt me to tell me things of which I am already aware, such as how it is impossible for such a contract to be dissolved and the threat of a Dementor's Kiss; it is imperative you preside over the ceremony."

"I have better things to do, Mrs. Malfoy than to perform nuptials." His large dark hand wiped the sweat from his brow, while the woman before him slid into the features with which he was quite familiar. She smiled again, resting her elbow on his desk, her chin barely grazing the tips of her red nails.

"Who better than to disguise the identity of the bride than the Minister himself?" Kingsley gasped, his hand over his heart as dark brunette waves turned into golden brown curls. He shoved himself to his feet, his plush chair crashing into the wall behind him while Draco Malfoy smiled.

"There's my girl." Draco kissed the upturned lips, the tension easing from his limbs.

"Daphne Greengrass eloped with Blaise Zabini months ago. It is impossible for her to fulfill the Blood Contract; however, my son has found himself smitten with the delightful Ms Granger. With your cooperation, ten days from today they'll wed. Harry Potter would sabotage what should be the happiest day of any witches life if he were to discover the truth. I'm aware you're skeptical Kingsley. I had my doubts, prior to witnessing a small portion of his madness. Daphne Zabini will be in attendance as Hermione Granger. Harry Potter would not miss an opportunity to..."

"Minister." Hermione chewed her lip, wincing at the scathing glower of Narcissa. "I'm sorry to interrupt, truly I am. I well know you have better things to do with your time than preside over a wedding ceremony. If Malfoy hadn't been so stubborn, I would have gone through the proper channels and petitioned you to void the Contract using the Parental Supervisory Clause. As you well know a proper Blood Contract cannot be considered legally or magically binding without both maternal and paternal consent. In the event either parental figure is deceased, then it is the duty of the godparent to fulfill said role. However, if the godparent does not agree to the match in question, it cannot be solidified as it violates the rights of the intended."

"Merlin's beard, Ms. Granger, did you bloody memorise the entire Magical Code?" Kingsley Shacklebolt fell into his chair, his jaw gaping open while Hermione had recited the law.

"The girl memorised _Hogwarts: A history_ in first year, I don't know why this surprises you." Draco was oddly proud of his intended. It used to drive him absolutely batty when Hermione had recited random facts, but no longer. It was simply another piece of her and he wished to know more.

"Ms. Granger, I must say I'm impressed. Perhaps we can compromise. I'm a bit wary when it comes to believing Harry Potter would have committed such crimes; however I fully intend to investigate the matter. As for the Blood Contract," Kingsley snickered, which quickly turned into a raucous laughter. "I do enjoy bending the rules presented by the Wizengamot. If this isn't some game, if you're serious, Mr. Malfoy, I'll marry you. Right. Now." Minister Shacklebolt's eyes sparkled, thinking he had the upper hand. He couldn't for the life of him believe that Draco Malfoy wished to enter matrimony with Hermione Granger of his own volition. He reclined haughtily in his chair awaiting the response.

"Minister, we haven't the necessary forms..." Hermione floundered, not expecting this from her one time friend. She was irked with herself for not allowing for every contingency.

"I'm the Minister for Magic, Ms. Granger; surely you're not suggesting a Special License is beyond my powers?"

"I have a counter offer." Draco interjected, holding Hermione firmly to his side.

"Draco, darling..." Narcissa paused, hearing a ruckus in the hall. Draco stood, thrusting Hermione behind him, while casting a Disillusionment Charm, the moment before Harry Potter burst through the door.

"WHERE IS SHE?! I KNOW SHE'S HERE!" Harry Potter was unable to contain his fury. His pupils as large as saucers scoured the office, his fists clenched in rage. They were hiding his one true love, he knew it.

"Potter! Control yourself!" The Minister for Magic was taken aback by his Head Auror's behaviour.

"I can't find her, sir. He's behind it. I know he is. You must let me..."

"Potter! Draco and Narcissa Malfoy are here to request my services for his impending nuptials to Daphne Greengrass, as well as fine tune the Blood Contract. Unless you are speaking of Ms Greengrass..."

"NO! Not her! Hermione! Hermione Granger! Ron entrusted her to me. He made me promise to take care of her before Voldemort blasted him to bits! I've lost her." Narcissa Malfoy arched a singular eyebrow in Shacklebolt's direction, the implication being clear.

"Mr. Potter, you need to remove yourself or I'll have you removed."

"But...but...Minister, he knows where she is. Malfoy does. I saw them together. I watched them, Minister. He's tricked her somehow. He's forced her, and Ron...Ron loved her as much as I love her. You can't expect me to just...to just...leave her be. You're being ridiculous! I'm Harry Potter! I'll have you removed as Minister for interfering with an Auror investigation!" Kingsley Shacklebolt hung his head as the sinking feeling of remorse flooded his senses. He had suspected something was amiss with his Head Auror, but had taken Harry Potter at his word.

It was difficult for Kingsley to fathom such an ominous occurrence. He had fought beside the boy in the war against Voldemort. He had trained him and promised Dumbledore he would watch over Harry. He had heard rumors of Harry Potter's slow decline but it seemed no one wished to make waves in the seemingly peaceful wizarding community. Shacklebolt didn't blame them, not really. He understood it and had been guilty of it himself.

Harry had become quite adept at hiding his condition. He explained it away, blamed it on the stress of the job and they had let him. The personality change had been slow, yet steady until it finally culminated into this moment. Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed heavily, his heart filled with pity.

"Harry Potter. You are hereby removed of your duties, until such time as you consent to a full evaluation and are deemed fit by a medical professional of your choice. If you do not remove yourself from my presence immediately, I will have you escorted to Azkaban."

"No. Minister. You can't. I almost had Yaxley. I'm the best you've got. There's no one better than I am! I defeated Voldemort! I'm The Boy Who Lived! I simply require Hermione Granger. She's my soul mate. Surely you understand that, sir." Harry ran his hand through his dark hair, causing it to stand on end, his eyes wild, a red glow seemingly dancing behind his pupils.

"Weasley!" Kingsley shouted into the corridor. Arthur Weasley's eyebrows shot into his receding hairline as he gaped upon the Minister. "Yes, you, Arthur, please escort Mr. Potter from the premises. If he resists, stun him and bring him to St Mungos. The poor boy seems a bit mad." Arthur Weasley tipped his hat at Narcissa with a quick smile before he snatched Harry's arm, leading him gently away, while murmuring calmly in his ear.

Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt flounced his large frame back into his chair, knocking his tiny green hat from his bald head. Draco removed the Disillusionment Charm, desperately wiping the silent tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes. Kingsley was definitely uncomfortable observing the young Malfoy tenderly whisper into Ms. Granger's ear and lightly kiss her lips. Draco stood tall, looked the Minister directly in the eye and Kingsley knew exactly what would be said.

"I'll do it."


	5. Nobody 'Cept You

**AN: I'm only posting this chapter because I promised one particular reader *cough* ashley *cough* that I would if I managed to reach my goal yesterday...which, obviously I did. **

**Begging &amp; pleading for new chapters the day I post won't make me post faster...sorry, but not sorry. I do have other works in progress and the creative juices flow when they choose to flow. I always hope the end product is worth the wait. I appreciate every one who chooses to bear with me.**

**As always - *kisses***

* * *

Chapter 5 - Nobody 'Cept You

* * *

"You were brilliant. Absolutely brilliant." Draco Malfoy escorted his mother down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, dismissing the gawking stares and whispers which followed them.

"Sweetie. Sorry I couldn't stop him. I tried." Declan swung Hermione's hand gaily.

"You can't call me that here." She hissed, "Its fine. Malfoy handled it well."

"If I can't call you Sweetie, you can't chew your lip. Fair is fair." In an act of defiance, Hermione flung Daphne's hair over her shoulder, exaggerating the sway of her hips.

"Well done!" Daphne giggled, dragging Blaise along.

"Granger doesn't giggle." Blaise grumbled. Daphne poked his ribs with her elbow in warning.

"Take Draco to the pub. Theo should be along shortly. We have the final fitting and I know spending your afternoon in a dressmaker's shop.."

"I'm out." Grudgingly he bestowed a chaste kiss upon his wife's cheek.

"Oi! Malfoy! Drinks not dresses!" Declan shouted earning him a glare from Narcissa who had refused another vial of Polyjuice. Despite her son's better judgement she had declared herself more than prepared to deal Lucius Malfoy.

"You must go." Draco smirked in displeasure. Hermione kissed his cheek with a small practiced smile.

"I only.."

"Go with Dec. You can't see the dress. Your mother insisted."

"I wish he had married us." Draco sighed, his forehead against hers.

"He was testing you. Kingsley does adore his tests. If he had and we'd signed, your father…"

"I know…I just…"

"Hush. It'll be fine. I'll see you later…at home." She brushed the hair from his brow, leaving him to stand outside, dumbstruck.

* * *

"Malfoy. You going to drink that?" Draco swirled the amber liquid in his glass, staring into the pub's firelight. Theo snatched the glass, downing the liquid.

"He's a bit mental." Declan gave Theo a bit of a shove.

"He's gettin' married. In ten days. You'd be a bit mental too, Theo." Blaise and Draco sat side by side in silence, each of them ignoring their drinks. Their minds were occupied with their witches.

"She called it home."

"Well, she lives there, doesn't she?" Blaise sipped his butter beer, sighing.

"She's never called it that before. It was always 'I wish I could come home' when talkin' to Dec and then today, she just said it like it was nothing."

"Ugh. Who cares, Malfoy?" Blaise waved over the barkeep, requesting firewhiskey.

"Obviously he does, seems my little Sweetie has snagged herself a wicked Slytherin." Declan tossed his arms over Draco and Blaise's shoulders. Theo stumbled through the crowded pub intent on finding the facilities.

"Don't get him started, Dec!" Blaise grumbled into his glass, wishing he was shagging his wife instead of listening to Malfoy's laments. "I swore when we left Hogwarts I'd never have to listen to this shit ever again."

"Oh Blaise, do tell! As a Hufflepuff I never had the privilege of visiting the Slytherin common rooms. Well, that's not entirely true, fifth year there was this bloody sixth year and let me tell you..."

"NO! Anything but that. Malfoy, help me out here." Declan shook their shoulders jovially. It took every ounce of willpower Blaise Zabini possessed to keep his composure.

"I need to see her." Draco slid off his barstool, searching through the witches and wizards for the easiest exit.

"You can't. It's bad luck or some other rubbish. Daphne is trying to implement as many bloody Muggle traditions as she can to keep Granger happy. So you stay here. You can't see the dress. You're stuck with us."

"Fuck."

"I'd love too, but your wife stole my wife." The barkeep tired of serving numerous tumblers of firewhiskey, finally leaving the bottle which pleased Blaise immensely.

"She's not my wife."

"Yet. Now, Blaise, I do believe you were primed to tell me all about Mr. Malfoy's Hogwarts days.." Declan poked Blaise conspiratorially, batting his long, dark eyelashes at the large Italian wizard.

"Stop it. Alright, so, Malfoy and I weren't exactly friends at Hogwarts. Always thought he was a bit of a git. It was the one thing Weasley and I ever agreed upon," He laughed remembering the moment almost fondly, "It was bloody impossible not to hear Malfoy's rants. First year they were all about bloody Potter. Somewhere along the way, I'm not sure when, they segued into bitching about Granger." Blaise glanced at Draco, wondering if he would interject. "Granger bested me in every class except Potions," Theo guffawed behind him while Blaise continued his Draco impersonation, "That filthy, dirty Mudblood thinks she knows everything. She has stupid hair and stupid teeth. I hate her face. I don't know what Viktor Krum sees in her, she's not even very pretty, he could do much better than that."

"Oh, he did." Declan interrupted, winking knowingly.

"Ew. Shut up. Granger's a bloody prefect. My father hexed me for being beaten by that bloody Mudblood. She punched me! Can you believe it?" The tears were streaming down their intoxicated faces while Blaise continued. No one noticed the darkening of Draco's eyes until Blaise found himself on the other end of a brandished wand to his throat.

"Stop. Calling. Her. That."

"Draco. Hey. Malfoy, calm down. It was just a joke. No one thinks like that anymore." Declan squeezed the wizard's wrist, forcing his arm to his side before some serious damage was done. Blaise's shoulders continued to shake in laughter, the seriousness of the situation completely inconsequential.

"Its...its…its taken him a bloody decade to realize he's in love with the bloody Gryffindor Princess. I don't have another decade in me to listen to his bitching before he finally bloody TELLS her."

* * *

"I hate it." Hermione stood before a floor length mirror and burst into tears. She hated everything about it. She was well aware it was imperative to choose a wedding gown as if she truly were Daphne Greengrass, but there were limits. The emerald green, plunging neckline, jewel encrusted, backless gown was the very last garment Hermione Granger would ever choose.

The dressmaker's eyes widened in horror. It was her very best creation. She had spent months deciding upon the best jewels to encrust the gown which would complement the young bride. In her decades of experience, she had never had a customer burst into tears upon wearing one of her creations. If Narcissa Malfoy hadn't been present, she would have given the bawling brunette a piece of her mind.

"Cissa, dear. Give us a moment, please." As much as she found herself enjoying the company of a Muggle-born witch she never could abide such a public display of emotion. Daphne held Hermione's elbow firmly, leading her into the back of the dress shop to remove the offending gown.

"I can't believe you! You've embarrassed me! I designed that gown! It's absolutely perfect and you're bawling like a spoilt toddler. If you weren't saving my life I'd slap you silly!" Hermione took a moment to gather herself together while Daphne helped her out of the gown.

"Your life as well? I wasn't aware. I apologise. I'll wear the gown, no more tears. Promise." Hermione wiped the remnants of tears from her face, took a deep breath and smiled. Daphne felt a pang of guilt. Hermione Granger was saving her life and she didn't even know it. She was allowed to have a moment of upset over her wedding day.

"We'll find a compromise. We don't have much time, but it can be done. I don't want you crying on your wedding day. And yes, if Draco hadn't found a suitable witch willing to step into my place, we'd both be facing the Dementor's Kiss. So regardless of the horrid things I manage to say, I really do appreciate what you're doing."

"I don't know anything about these things. I can't be trusted to pick a gown." Hermione pulled a peach dressing gown around herself, forgetting for a moment she was wearing Daphne.

"You're fine. Your ensemble is much better now than at Hogwarts." Hermione mumbled, her cheeks flushing. Daphne wasn't aware she was capable of blushing but decided it wasn't a terrible look for her.

"Did you just say Draco dresses you?" Hermione nodded, mortified. "He has impeccable taste. Come then. Let's find something suitable."

* * *

_"You have to stay here. It's too dangerous." Draco Malfoy's head pounded from the copious amounts of alcohol and fear.  
__  
__"Malfoy! It was my home. The closest thing to a home I had, I need to see it." He threw on a set of old robes, trying to leave as quickly as possible. A tiny, curly haired brunette had other ideas. She'd yelled, screamed, thrown things and still he resisted until she resorted to begging. He hated it when she begged.  
__  
__"Don't you think I know that?! Don't you think I know how much that stupid bloody flat means to you? Why do you think I'm rushing about? He's trying to suss you out. Stay here. Please."_

_They hadn't planned on Harry Potter being released from St Mungos so quickly. They got complacent. They were careless. It was only supposed to be a small gathering of close friends for a last hurrah before the wedding. Hermione had requested the gathering to take place at Declan's. She missed him desperately. She hadn't been able to see him as much as she would have liked. The Minister for Magic had him bustling about, preparing for his secretive travel. Theo, of course, thought it was a fantastic idea and since Draco was the only person objecting, he caved. He wished he hadn't.  
__  
__It had been a wonderful evening. They laughed, teased and drank entirely too much. He never expected them to be there so long or to run out of Polyjuice. He blamed himself really. He let his guard down. If he had simply brought her directly home, it would have been fine. If he hadn't stood under the streetlamp snogging her senseless, Potter wouldn't have seen anything amiss. They would have been gone before he'd ever arrived. It was his own foolishness. _

_It was over as quickly as it had begun. Draco had held Hermione tight and Apparated her directly to Willow Pond. The shouts and spells flying past them had been enough for him to act quickly. He wasn't about to have her in harm's way the day before their wedding._

_As hard as he tried, he couldn't resist her. She'd gotten under his skin. She'd wriggled her way into his life and Merlin help him, his heart. He wouldn't call it love. Not yet, anyway, considering love was a completely foreign emotion, but it was something._

_"What about you? You shouldn't go then either."_

_"Granger. I have too. I got you home, but Dec? Theo? Daphne? Zabini? They're in the wind. I don't know if they got out. I have to go. You don't. I fucked up. I can't let that happen again." Hermione hovered over him, clasping his robes, brushing invisible lint off the shoulders._

"_What if he's still there? You could get…"_

"_Granger, if Potter's even half as smart as you always claimed he was, he'll be long gone. The Aurors were arriving even as we were leaving. I'll be fine." He kissed her cheek, then her lips ever so quickly she couldn't help wondering if it had happened.  
__  
__"But, what about.." Hermione resigned herself to staying behind, as much as she detested it, she knew he was right.  
__  
__"Tomorrow? I'll be the one waiting for you, next to the Minister." Draco kissed her forehead quickly before sweeping out the door._

* * *

He stood in front of what was left of Declan's flat, watching the remains smolder. Declan and Theo had been taken to St Mungos by a few unfamiliar Aurors. He hoped the Healers were sincerely regretting their decision to release Harry Potter.

"Malfoy." Draco wondered how he was going to break the news to Hermione when Blaise Zabini clapped his shoulder. "I dumped Daphne at your place. She's a bit of a wreck. Dec is ok, just a few minor burns but he's out for blood."

"Th'fuck happened Zabini? One minute I'm snogging Granger, the next Potter is hexing us. How the hell did this happen?" He watched the dark smoke rise from the rubble that used to be a home.

"You're always snogging Granger, regardless of whose face she's wearing, I might add. Fuck Malfoy, I don't know. One minute we're drinking and the next there's screaming and smoke. I don't think any of us tried to stick around to see what Potter's agenda really was. The Aurors showed up mighty quick, I suppose they had a Tracing Spell on him or something, but that won't last long. It's not your fault you know. We all thought he was still in St Mungos. Shacklebolt says he escaped. Didn't count on that. The Ministry is spread thin these days with all these outcroppings of Death Eaters popping up. You should take her to the Manor." Blaise crossed his arms, his biceps bulging, and the creases in his tanned forehead shining with sweat.

"She won't even consider it. You know what happened to her there. I can't ask that of her, not again. I don't know how to keep her safe. I don't know what else to do, Blaise." Draco wandered around Hermione's former home, looking for the remnants of something, anything he could salvage for her.

"Look, Draco, I've known you since we were kids. Didn't like you much. Bit of a prat honestly, but I know you. You can't blame yourself for this. Just like you can't blame yourself for Dumbledore. You didn't do that either. She wasn't here thanks to you. We all got out and we'll be fine. You can't spend half the night sifting through ashes the night before your fucking wedding." Blaise propped himself against the remnants of the brick wall which used to surround the garden.

"I know. Dumbledore was going to die anyway. I know that now. I don't bloody blame myself for that. I blame myself for a lot of things, Blaise, but not that. If something had happened to her..."

"It didn't. You can lie to me, but you can't lie to yourself. You're not going through with this to avoid some Dementor's Kiss. Your father would have never let it come to that once he found out about me and Daphne. Sure, you were bloody drunk when you agreed to it, but I remember how obsessed you were with her. You love her and the sooner you admit to yourself the better, for all of us." Blaise reached into his pocket, pulling a cigarette from a battered pack and lighting it with his wand.

"Daphne's going to murder you if you bring those Muggle sticks home. And I wasn't obsessed with her. She was the reason my father was the way he was. Best in everything. Knew all the answers to everything. Stupid bushy hair, always in the library, her face in a bloody book." In the far corner of the rubble, furthest from the street, he spied the corner of a box. Draco swept the embers and grit from it, knowing it was hers. Small, square and red with golden swirls along the top, of course it was hers, bloody Gryffindor that she is.

"Sounds like obsession to me. What do you have there?" With mild interest, Blaise watched Draco _scourgify_ and _reparo_ the box until it looked new.

"A gift." Draco wrapped it in his jumper, tucking it under his arm.

"You can't give that to her during the party."

"I know. I got her jewelry for that. That's for appearances. Daphne would expect jewelry. This is for after, when we're alone and.."

"When you're trying to shag her." Blaise chuckled. "That's slick. She'll never see it coming." He never saw it coming. He was flung over the crumbling wall, feet over head, before crashing to the ground. Blaise stood, brushing the soot from his robes, laughing.

"Dammit Malfoy, that was completely unnecessary! You're only fooling yourself, mate. C'mon. It's late. Daphne says you're supposed to stay at our place. Some Muggle tradition of not seeing the bride and shit. Did you know she got her parents to invite Lovegood? Remember that nutter? Something about building relations and making Granger comfortable. Her parents actually went for it! Can you believe it?"

"Daphne's very persuasive when the mood strikes her." Blaise pulled Draco away from the wreckage.

* * *

"Do we have enough Polyjuice? What if I do it all wrong? What if he doesn't show up? Oh my gods I forgot about Lucius. What if he suspects? What should I do then? You'll stay with me, won't you? Why are you doing my hair now? Won't you have to do it again once I'm required to be you? Is Cissa attending as herself? I don't know how you expect me to be able to fool your parents. How are we going to do that? We never practiced! Who's at the door? I can't breathe." Daphne hurriedly threw a dressing robe over the ornate gown they had chosen while Narcissa pressed her lips together in compressed smile of amusement.

"Perhaps it's time you admit to yourself this is not a business transaction at all." Narcissa ignored the thump against the door, knowing her son had silenced himself on the other side. She watched the young bride's flush deepen, her lips part in preparation to protest.

"I don't know what you mean." The words lacked the venom she intended. Hermione Granger's nerves were wound so tightly she was having difficulty breathing. It was as if the air had thickened, refusing to be absorbed.

"Cissa is simply trying to prove a point. While the two of you are actively avoiding the truth, the rest of us know better." Daphne spread various shades of make up across Hermione's cheeks while she fingered the emerald and diamond swirls hanging from her ears.

"What are you saying, Daphne? Subtlety was never your strong suit." Draco palmed the heavy oak door, his forehead against his hand, wanting to walk away but finding himself unable. He had to see her. He needed to see her, if only for a moment. He knew she was being irrational and worrying herself into a frenzy. He had every intention of bursting into the bridal suite, until he heard his mother's words.

"Fools. You love him, you stupid girl." Daphne frowned toward Narcissa behind Hermione's back. The poor girl gasped, automatically chewing her lip. Daphne removed the dressing gown, shaking out the remnants of fallen blush.

"I-I don't." Draco didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't the pang of in his chest. He debated returning to the garden, to mingle among the guests when she continued, "I wouldn't call it that. I mean, he's different. He really was quite horrid as a child, wasn't he?" Daphne knew her friend did not expect an answer. "He's quite attractive as well, yet most women find that to be true and of course he's used that to his advantage. He's kind. Did you know that? I mentioned missing my books and yes, he mocked me for it, but he brought me a copy of Hogwarts: A History." Daphne rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't mean much to someone else, but he remembered my favourite book. That means something to me."

"Don't forget the snogging."

"Yes, Daphne, the snogging is, well it's bloody delightful honestly."

"Hermione..." Narcissa tapped her stiletto heel impatiently. If the girl continued to ramble, they were going to be late and her son would be furious.

"Yes, alright then. There's feelings. I don't know what they are, I haven't had enough time to really contemplate them. I miss him when he's gone. I feel better when he's there. It's not love, n-not yet, I suppose it could become that, but right now it's not. It's definitely...something." Hermione allowed her feet to be slipped into jewel encrusted slippers, lost in the confines of her mind.

"Indeed." Narcissa cracked the suite door, gazing at her son's disheveled appearance. He was in quite a state.

"Mother." He murmured, "I need to see her." Narcissa allowed her eyes to widen in appropriate surprise.

"Draco." Hermione spun toward his voice, hesitantly stepping forward, her hand at her throat. "You know the protocol. It's not proper to be here. You should be in the garden, entertaining your guests." He would be suspicious if she did not remind him of his duties.

"Mother, please. Just for a moment." His hair was mussed, his robes askew and she knew, her son was lost without the Muggle-born witch. She opened the door with a sigh, stepping aside to watch the scene unfold.

Daphne dabbed unspent tears from the bride's eyes, twisting wayward hairs into a beautiful disarray, before adjusting the décolletage of the gown. Draco thought his heart would stop. Hermione stood before him, chewing the corner of her lip, twisting a curl around her finger in a gown of the lightest green he'd ever seen. The bodice hugged her every curve, falling softly from her hips to the floor. As she stepped toward him, he realised the colour of the dress segued into ivory as it swirled around her feet. Daphne retreated from her ministrations spying Draco staring at his bride.

"You're here." Hermione whispered, the half smile displaying the smallest dimple near the corner of her mouth. "You're not supposed to see me." He became aware of Daphne smirking at him, her eyebrows raised.

"I know how you get. I'm actually surprised Daphne hasn't Silenced you yet." He smirked yet it didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh, I considered it." His eyes flicked to Daphne, quickly returning to Hermione. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He didn't want too. He wished the whole affair was over and done with so he could...

"Draco."

"Mother, I need a moment." Daphne slipped past the groom, joining Narcissa near the door to give the couple the appearance of privacy. Draco found himself a hair's breadth from Hermione. He touched the corner of her mouth, reminding her to release her bottom lip.

"I needed to see you." He bit back the groan while appreciating the crest of her breasts.

"You'll see me in a few moments. Daphne explained to me this isn't like a Muggle ceremony at all. I don't understand the need for the dress honestly. I walk into a room, we sign the contract and there's a binding? Then there's drinking and eating? Sounds very impersonal and.." He kissed her then.

Draco had discovered over his weeks with the tiny witch, she had a tendency to ramble when she was nervous. Hermione melted against his rugged chest, finding comfort in the very wizard whom used to instill anger. The faintest scent of cherry and almonds floated through the air. His hands found their way to her face, holding it ever so gently while his lips pressed against hers. Pulling away slightly, he watched her eyes flutter open.

"I needed to see _you_, not you wearing Daphne." Draco knew that pleased her. Hermione blushed lightly, encircling his waist.

"You should go. We'll be late."

"You're not the boss of me, woman." He nipped her bottom lip, kissing the raw corner tenderly. "You look lovely. Hurry now." Looking into her golden brown eyes, flecked with bits of yellow, he knew he loved her.

* * *

Hermione was led down the twisting, winding halls of the Greengrass estate, thankful the wedding was not taking place at Malfoy Manor. Apparently Lucius had been quite put out by the change of venue which suited Hermione just fine. She had avoided him as much as possible, especially since their confrontation over her friendship with herself. Lucius was absolutely livid 'Daphne' had insisted upon extending an invitation to Hermione Granger.

"That filthy Mudblood will not step foot on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, unless of course she wishes to repeat her last visit." Lucius smirked nastily, refusing to yield. Hermione kept her composure, withering him with a scathing glance, stalking from the bistro in Diagon Alley with poise.

"Thank you for making my decision that much easier, Lucius. I'll simply demand the festivities take place at my parents ancestral home. I'm sure my father will be overjoyed to hear I've decided Malfoy Manor is completely inadequate." Hermione enjoyed leaving Lucius speechless.

"We're almost there. Just focus on Draco." Narcissa offered murmured words of encouragement sensing the tension.

"Will you come with me?" Hermione nervously asked, her knees knocking together while being lead toward the canopy near the expansive back garden.

"I have to bide my time." Narcissa smiled kindly. "Perfect entrance, you understand." She hugged the Muggle-born witch carefully, still disdaining extensive physical contact.

"The signing then?" Narcissa's eyes narrowed in appreciation for the perceptiveness of the blushing bride before her. She nodded subtly, whisking down the halls, retreating to the bridal suites once again. Daphne gripped Hermione's elbow, pushing open the ornate glass doors. She chewed the corner of her lip, just as Hermione would have done. Hermione tossed her brunette curls over her shoulder, grateful Daphne had agreed to the coif.

They caught Blaise's eye as they stepped onto the veranda. He looked between them, obviously trying to decide if they had used the Polyjuice Potion at their disposal. Daphne giggled, covering her mouth quickly, her eyes wide in surprise. Blaise visibly relaxed, leaning toward Mrs Greengrass who was intensely gushing about things which did not matter to him in the least.

"Oh Daphne, you're a vision. Though, I must say, I'm disappointed by your choice of dress. However, it is surprisingly flattering." Daphne shot daggers at her mother, which went unnoticed while she took in Hermione standing before her. Hermione looked down at her 'mother' smiling icily.

"Mother, I found it completely inappropriate to bare myself before our guests during such a solemn occasion. I thought, you of all people would understand." Hermione allowed herself a passing glance at Blaise, her implications clear. Denalia Greengrass had the decency to blush furiously.

"Yes, of course dear, you're absolutely right." Daphne felt a moment of triumph. She'd never managed to put her meddling mother in her place so succinctly.

"Sorry." Hermione whispered. Daphne squeezed her hand, imperceptibly nodding.

"Daphne, dear, you might wish to reconsider your escort. Lucius Malfoy will be quite put out if you continue to insist upon Ms Granger." Denalia condescended to gaze upon the tiny, brunette witch beside her daughter. Her light eyes widening considerably spying Hermione Granger in the gown she had commissioned for her daughter's wedding. Daphne had demanded to wear the gown, Hermione finally relenting. In a way, it really was both of theirs, besides, Lucius Malfoy's eyes would simply pop out of his head to see a Muggle-born witch adorned in Slytherin colours.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I was under the impression this was my wedding? Did something change of which I am unaware? Do I need to step aside for the new bride? I'm most willing in this respect as I'm sure you well know where my heart resides." Daphne suppressed the desire to break into applause, even Blaise managed to look mildly impressed with Hermione's impersonation of his wife.

White sparks flying from the tip of a wand signaled the guests to take their places. Denalia Greengrass hurried down the steps toward her husband, determined to speak her mind. He always had given his oldest child entirely too much leeway and look where it had gotten them. Their remaining daughter was to be escorted into her binding ceremony with a Muggle-born witch. The Daily Prophet was going to have a field day.

Hermione searched the throngs of witches and wizards for Draco Malfoy, the canopy blocking her view to her great irritation.

"Ready?" Daphne looked up into her own face wondering if she had always had that crease in her forehead. It was most unbecoming.

"No." Hermione's mouth moved but the word never reached the airwaves. Daphne nodded, gripping her elbow tightly, leading her down the stone steps. The witches and wizards in their finery, separated and there, at the very edge of the canopy, surrounded by plumes of gardenias, was Draco Malfoy.

"Don't smile." Hermione nodded, her eyes locked on his as she moved forward slowly. She wasn't offended by his stoic mask held firmly in place. She knew it was part of the facade they were required to enact.

For a moment she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to have Declan walk her down the aisle, surrounded by friends and family in a dress of her own choosing. Would it still be this man waiting for her at the end of the aisle? She couldn't imagine it any other way. Hermione was struggling. She wanted to run into his arms. It was safe there. She stumbled, her heel catching on the fine layer of white roses at her feet.

Draco moved as if he were going to lend assistance, stopping instantly spying the look of derision on his father's face. He quickly clasped his hands behind his back. He wished Hermione looked like Hermione. He closed his eyes for a moment, imaging how it would be if they had a choice in the matter. Something simple. Something small. A few close friends, his mother, perhaps on the bridge near Willow Pond, just outside his estate, it sounded just about perfect. He hated this just as much as she did. He opened his eyes to find her directly in front of him, still clutching Daphne's hand.

Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt cleared his throat lightly. Hermione looked to Daphne, dark eyes wide. Daphne nodded, smiling softly in encouragement. Hermione stepped forward, taking Draco's offered clammy hand. Placing his wand against his throat, muttering *Sonorus*, Shacklebolt began.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, witches and wizards of all ages," Shacklebolt smirked slightly, "We have gathered this day to join this witch and this wizard together according to the terms of their binding magical contract." There a slight murmur among the guests, a whispering of sorts as they realised the Minister for Magic had no intention of mentioning the terms of the contract. Such things had never been done in pure-blood society. Draco smirked at the disbelief crossing his father's features. He leaned over, brushing the dark curls from Hermione's neck. Her eyes questioned him silently.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered, his mouth barely moving, his breath fluttering against her ear. She nodded quickly. "Don't turn around." His eyes warmed by the sight of his mother standing on the edge of the canopy. Her dress robes were the exact colour of her sky blue eyes. She waited patiently, never sparing a single glance in her husband's direction.

Hermione knew Shacklebolt was speaking, but she tuned out his words, instead concentrating on the hand gripping hers. She watched Draco bend over the small table, the green linens shifting in a slight breeze. He signed his name with a flourish, applying slight pressure to her palm when the guests gasped behind her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lucius Malfoy hurry from the Minister's side.

"Now." Draco thrust the quill into her hand, pressing it upon the parchment. She signed her own name, watching it glow for a moment before solidifying. Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt rolled the contract quickly, shoving into an interior pocket. He withdrew his wand, directing them to clasp hands. Draco held out his right hand, motioning for Hermione's left. They grasped forearms, eyes locked, hearts pounding, as the Minister cast the spell. A golden tendril of light enveloped their forearms, wrapping around them tightly before he raised his wand over his head, setting forth green sparks to signify the end of the ceremony.

Draco snatched Hermione to him, kissing her passionately, reveling in the smell of cherries and almonds which surrounded them. He kissed her cheek, his lips against her ear.

"You're my wife." She nodded, unable to identify the emotions swirling around her.

"Don't celebrate yet, Mr. Malfoy." Kingsley's dark face shone with sweat, his mouth slightly agape, his chocolate eyes fastened on the commotion outside the canopy. Hermione and Draco turned, instantly stifling inappropriate laughter.

It looked as though Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were engaged in a duel. Draco had to admit his mother was far more adept than he ever gave her credit for.

"Furnunculus!" Lucius roared watching his skin bubble, as it was covered in boils.

"Carpe Retractum!" Lucius flicked his wrist, pale blond hair swinging.

"Protego. Come now, Lucius, you're not even trying. Levicorpus." Narcissa sounded almost bored. Hermione gasped, covering her mouth to stifle the laughter while Lucius Malfoy hung suspended over his wife in fury.

"Put. Me. Down." Even Draco managed a small smile. His father's dignity was literally hanging in the balance. Narcissa lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug, rolling her eyes before lowering him to the ground in a heap.

"Don't test me, Lucius. As you can see, I'm no longer willing to be your pawn." Lucius Malfoy stood, brushing his rumpled robes, tossing his long pale blond hair over his shoulder and glowering at his wife. Briskly she whisked herself through the crowd of stunned witches and wizards. Lucius stood for a moment, watching her retreat before hurrying after her.

"Cissa! Cissa wait!" The desperation in his voice was incredibly clear. Hermione turned to her husband questioningly.

"He really does love her, does he?" Draco's eyes followed his parents until they turned the corner of the Greengrass home.

"I suppose he does, in his own way."

"Is it...wrong of me, to wish we could leave?" Hermione plucked the sleeve of his black dress robes.

"Only if it's wrong of me to wish you were you." Draco entwined their hands, leading her among the throngs of guests with a sigh of reluctance.


	6. Love is Just a Four-Letter Word

Chapter 6 - Love is Just a Four-Letter Word

* * *

"Three days of this madness? You didn't tell me it would three days!" Hermione shrieked to Daphne as they 'freshened up' in the bridal suites, clutching their vials of Polyjuice.

"It's our family tradition. I honestly didn't believe my parents would adhere to such things considering the nature of the nuptials." Daphne stretched, rubbing her sore feet. As much as she adored her diamond studded silver stilettos she was regretting her decision to wear them.

"Daphne? How...terrible for us…would it be...if..?" Hermione left the question hanging, hoping Daphne would pick up on her insinuation. To her surprise, Daphne laughed, loud and long.

"Oh, Granger. You've bloody well read my mind. Personally, my mother would be relieved. She never wanted a match with the Malfoys, not even for my sister. She simply adores Blaise. You should see the way she fawns over him. I'd be jealous if I were the type." She laughed again, gaily, "Well, I am the type but Blaise loves me. He's always loved me. Of course, I didn't know he even existed until after Hogwarts and he loved me anyway. I adore him. My father would put up a bit of a fuss, but honestly he's always secretly detested Lucius. I believe our biggest obstacle would be Lucius and, well Harry Potter. However, with the Minister for Magic as our special guest, I doubt the little maniac would attempt to break the wards. I believe Narcissa could handle Lucius. I'm game if you are." Daphne's dark as pitch eyes sparkled with a deviousness Hermione found was infectious.

"Kingsley's here which means Harry would never even attempt to make an appearance. We really should have thought of that before. I'm almost angry with myself, but then I remember Lucius. Let's just take a half dose. It'll give us time to warn the boys and Narcissa for that matter. We really should prepare her."

"I don't care anymore. I just want to dance with my husband, as myself, at my pretend wedding. I want to see you dance with Draco as yourself at your pretend wedding. That's not too much to ask, now is it?" Daphne poured half the vial down the marble wash room sink as Hermione did the same next to her.

"It's now or never." Hands linked, they ventured forth, intent on finding their husbands, tired of hiding behind faces which weren't their own.

* * *

"You want to do WHAT?!" Draco hadn't understood why Hermione insisted on dragging him away from the festivities until that moment.

"Malfoy, it's just.."

"No, Granger, no. The whole point of this was to protect you and you just want to throw it all away?" Draco's hair flopped into his eyes and Hermione was hard pressed to keep her hands from brushing it from his forehead.

"Malfoy. Shacklebolt is an honored guest. Harry wouldn't dare attempt anything with him here. If this is the only wedding I'm going to get, I want to be able to be myself. Can't you understand that?" He couldn't resist her pleading. Even though it was Daphne's eyes begging him, he knew he'd give in.

"My father may very well make you a widow before we ever see our wedding night, Granger." He pressed his lips to her cheek, avoiding her lips. No matter how many times he tried, they always felt wrong. They didn't feel like her.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to kiss my wife, Malfoy?" Blaise swung Daphne's hand, thrilled at the prospect of ending the charade.

"Did you speak with Cissa?" Blaise snickered, letting his wife field the question.

"Uhm, well, yes. Lucius was hovering and overheard part of our conversation so he's dangling by his leg again. I foresee that bit happening quite a bit actually. She also, threatened to hex his uhm..his..

"Balls." Blaise supplied. Daphne shoved him a bit.

"She swore she'd keep him in line and to do whatever our hearts desired. She also suggested we move to the dance floor. The music is about to begin and something about..." Daphne couldn't remember the exact phrasing.

"Malfoys do everything with a bit of flourish." Draco supplied, picking up the nasty habit of rolling his eyes. "Come on then. Suppose it's time for us to face the music. Literally." He pulled Hermione along toward the parting guests, as the music began. "How much time do we have?"

"About three minutes. We only took a half portion." Draco sighed dramatically, spinning her onto the dance floor. He pulled her back into his arms, his mouth pressed against her temple.

"This is against my better judgement, Granger. You owe me. I'll be sure to collect...later." His charcoal eyes darkened with promise. Draco detected his parents on the fringe of the dance floor, Narcissa gripping Lucius' wrist in an unyielding grip.

He held his wife against his chest, swaying to the unfamiliar music, keeping an eye on Blaise and Daphne as well.

"Now." Hermione whispered, a slight tremor to her voice, her brown eyes wide with excitement laced with terror. Minister Shacklebolt shook his head nearby as he watched the transformation against his better judgement.

The music ended abruptly. Denalia Greengrass shrieked before fainting into her husband's ill prepared arms. He struggled with her added weight before lowering her onto a bed of trampled rose petals. Lucius Malfoy's silver eyes shot daggers toward his son, yet fear of his wife kept his feet solidly planted in place. Kingsley smiled to the crowd of shocked guests, raising his wand into the air, sparks flying, which demanded attention.

"It is my profound honor to introduce to you: Draco and Hermione Malfoy as well as Blaise and Daphne Zabini. Please, enjoy the rest of your festivities." The Minister's multi-coloured robes billowed out from his large frame while he stalked toward the Malfoys. "He's been apprehended. For safe keeping he's been taken to Azkaban. Can't risk him escaping St Mungos again. I'll keep you updated by owl." He slapped Draco on the back, kissed Hermione's cheek and Disapparated. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief, sagging against her husband.

"Your father is glaring at me. If Cissa hadn't disarmed him, I'm sure I would have been cursed by now."

"Are you sure he's glaring at you? Perhaps it's both of us. Seems as though Mother has him on a tight leash. Not that he doesn't deserve it." Draco chuckled, pulling her tightly into his chest.

"I don't want to be here anymore. Can we go home?"

"Actually, Princess, we can't." He grimaced while sighing, kissing her forehead. "There's a carriage house. We're to spend our wedding night there and the remaining days of festivities which hopefully will be cut short now. There's a dinner as well. It's tedious but expected and as this is the only wedding we'll have, it couldn't hurt to just...go along with it, would it?" Hermione stamped her heel in anger. She knew it was the only wedding she'd ever have, but she'd had enough and wished to go home, curl into bed and sleep.

"How long?" She slipped her hand into his robes, settling her hand over his heart.

"An hour? For the dinner."

"And then what?" Draco smirked, pulling her chin upwards. Her breath hitched. She simply couldn't resist him, not that she tried.

"Then, I make love to my wife."

* * *

"He's staring at me again." Hermione sighed forlornly a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach. As much as she wished to remain safe from the likes of Harry Potter, she didn't want to tear apart her husband's family. She wondered if he was forced to choose between her and his family where she would live. She had come to think of Willow Pond as her home. She missed her flat with Declan but he'd moved in with Theo before it turned into rubble. He had said there wasn't a point to staying there without her. She had grown used to Malfoy's presence in her life, as much as it had irritated her in the beginning.

"He'll get over it." Draco scowled stabbing a piece of chicken as though it had personally offended him.

"Your mother's bringing him over here. What do we do?" Draco almost laughed at the utter and complete panic in Hermione's voice. Casually he tossed his arm around her bare shoulders, pulling her into his side, brushing his lips across her brow; he smiled into the cold steel eyes of his father.

"Lucius. I don't believe you've been properly introduced to my very good friend, Hermione Granger." Narcissa allowed herself a throaty laugh as her husband tensed, his hand itching for his wand. "Well, Hermione Malfoy now. Isn't it lovely, Lucius?" Her wand prodded this throat, twisting slightly, daring him to disagree. Lucius Malfoy nodded curtly, struggling against the snarl threatening to breech his frozen features. If Hermione wasn't mistaken she believed Narcissa kicked Lucius none too gently in the shin.

"I will not." His lips barely moved as the words hissed between his compressed teeth.

"Oh darling, must I hex you?" Narcissa batted her light eyelashes, her voice dripping with exaggerated affection. Hermione's hand shook against the white linens. Draco's arm tightened around her shoulders, his hand covering hers, ignoring the sneer of revulsion on his father's face.

"You've allowed yourself to be tainted by a Mudblood. You are no longer my son." Lucius couldn't contain his fury any longer, regardless of the consequences.

"Levicorpus." Narcissa flicked her wand easily, smirking. Lucius crossed his arms angrily. Hermione snorted unintentionally, covering her mouth quickly. Draco was on his feet, fists clenched in rage.

"You're pathetic." Draco spat, shaking off the tentative hand of his wife. "I can't believe I'm related to you. Your pathetic ideologies. Your ridiculous hatred. Your blind submission to a half blood maniac. She's a better person than you could ever hope to be. If you ever call her a...insult her, ever again, I'll kill you myself." Lucius swung gently in the fall breeze, determined to show a modicum of dignity, regardless of his current position.

"Yes. We'll just see what Yaxley and Potter have to say about this abominable union." Even suspended, Lucius Malfoy's chilling threat frightened Hermione.

"Incarcerous." Narcissa spun on her heel, scouring the crowd, catching the eye of a nervous looking wizard near the edge of the back garden.

"Is that...Perry Weasley? Why is he here?"

"Percy." Hermione interjected nervously. She watched the older Weasley skirt around the various witches and wizards, making his way toward Narcissa.

"Mr. Weasley, please inform your father, don't look at me like that. I'm more than aware he's been stationed outside the wards for added protection. Therefore, you will deliver him a message for me." Percy's usual pompous demeanor lessened in the presence of Narcissa Malfoy. "Inform him we have contained Lucius and he is ready for transport at his leisure." She twisted her wand slightly, satisfied as Lucius groaned in pain.

"Mother.."

"Oh, please, Draco. I've always been underestimated. It's insulting, really." She huffed, turning her back on her husband's writhing form. "Did you honestly believe I would come unprepared? Your father has ruined the Malfoy reputation, taking all of us down with him. No longer. You deserve to be happy. I deserve it as well, which is impossible while living in the shadow of your father. Obviously he's scheming with Yaxley. Despicable." Percy Weasley gulped loudly. As much as he had always detested Lucius and even Draco Malfoy, Narcissa had always terrified him a bit. The sweat broke across his brow when she whirled on him, her wand raised, eyes flashing.

"Why are you still here?" Her scathing glance sent Percy sprinting across the gardens, slipping through the wards. He vehemently hoped to never wind up on the wrong side of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Are those...WEASLEYS? What are THEY doing HERE?!" Denalia's grating voice rang out over the crowd, cringing away from Molly and Ginny. Denalia sobbed into her husband's robes, going on about how everything was ruined now, while more witches and wizards crossed the wards into the festivities. Hermione found herself standing slightly behind her husband's shoulder, peeking around him as the familiar faces made their way toward her.

"They've come to see you. It's alright; I won't let anything happen to you." Ginny's freckled face reddened considerably, observing Malfoy's knuckles stroke Hermione's cheek.

"Ginny, I don't much think Hermione would appreciate you hexing her husband. Remember. We're supposed to be supportive."

"How do you even know it was something she wanted to do, Neville? She could have been forced into it or or..."

"Ginny, love, when has Hermione Granger ever done anything she didn't wish to do?" Neville Longbottom found himself quite used to his wife's antics. Her fiery temper was one of the things he loved best about her, as long as it wasn't directed at him. He deftly snatched his wife's wand from her hands, shoving it into his back pocket.

"She looks angry, Granger." Hermione felt his lips on her cheek and sighed.

"She's Ginny. She's always angry." He tipped her head toward him, lowering his lips to hers and Hermione was lost.

She had been kissed before, of course, but never like this. He had kissed her numerous times and yet this one was different. A sense of longing bubbled in her chest, blotting out everything around them. The ground was no longer beneath her feet, nor the sky above her head. There was only him. The feel of him against her, his lips probing hers, his breath against her being. If she had lived in a world without magic, in this moment, she could truly believe it existed. She was thirsty and he was her draught of water. She couldn't breathe and yet he was the oxygen swirling around her. She knew she would never feel complete without him.

"Sweet Merlin, Granger." Draco's chest heaved against her, his hands trembling slightly while Hermione clung to him.

"Ok, even I have to admit, that was bloody hot." Ginny fanned herself, smirking at the couple. "Bollocks. I owe George 10 galleons."

"Ginny..." Neville warned, knowing it was no use. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Look, Neville, I can't resist. He bet me 10 galleons Hermione here married Malfoy of her own volition. I never thought he'd be bloody right!" Neville shook his head, for as long as he'd known his wife, she never ceased to amaze him.

"Oi! You wankers. Snog later! Talk now!" The red haired witch wrenched Hermione from Draco, dragging her across the crowded dance floor.

"Ginny! What's going on? Why are you here? I haven't seen you since...since…" As hard as Hermione tried, she couldn't make herself say it. Ginny twisted her dark red hair in her hands, intrigued suddenly by her dark brown robes.

"Yeah. Neville asked me not to get involved in the whole thing. He really doesn't like confrontation. I keep telling him he's married the wrong witch." She sighed dramatically, tugging Hermione's curls. "Listen, dad wanted us to lay low. Harry's been completely mental..."

"I'm aware Ginerva Weasley! Bloody obsessed! Stalking me. Burning down my flat! And that's AFTER everything else he'd done before!"

"Longbottom. If you're going to bellow at me at least get my name right." Hermione wanted to slap the witch before her.

"Neville? Really? I always thought..."

"Everyone thought it would be Harry. Glad I dodged that bloody mess. Poor Cho. Shacklebolt granted her a divorce, thank Merlin and she scuttled right off for Scotland with little James in tow. Glad she got away. I think that just fueled Harry up a bit more though honestly.

'Dad's been taking meetings with Narcissa bloody Malfoy if you can believe it. It's almost like they're...friends? It's bloody strange. Mum's a bit put out by it, doesn't trust the woman in the least but you know how dad is. That's not the crazy thing though." Ginny glanced around quickly to make sure no one could eavesdrop. Hermione was distracted by the profile of a pug-faced brunette sauntering towards her husband.

"Hermione! Are you even listening!" Ginny tugged Hermione's curls again, irritated with young bride.

"Sorry, I thought...I saw Pansy Parkinson of all people." Ginny shuddered.

"Gross. So! I was using Extendable Ears and! "Ginny bounced in excitement."Shacklebolt told dad he would have voided the Marriage Contract since Lucius is such an insufferable git, but that _Draco_ asked him not too! He also added an infidelity clause and removed that one clause, what the fuck was it, oh yeah, have a kid in two years or the marriage automatically dissolves. There's some long boring name for it, but he didn't want that either!"

"Heir demand with time constraints..." Hermione mumbled, the colour draining from her face. The pug-faced woman was stroking Draco's arm, her long dark eyelashes batting up at him.

"Yup. That's the one." Ginny crossed her arms smugly. Hermione found herself having trouble focusing her eyes.

"W-why w-would he do that? W-when did he..." Ginny watched Hermione waver on her feet, summoning a garden chair for her.

"He loves you, stupid. It was a couple days ago. I was bloody dying not being able to contact you. Did you have any idea?! I almost didn't get married. Didn't want to without you." Ginny burst into tears, throwing herself into Hermione. "Neville _said_ it would be alright and it _wasn't_ not for years and I missed you." Ginny sobbed, tears smearing her down her cheeks.

"Aww, Gin, I missed you so much! I thought you and Molly hated me and I...if she doesn't get away from him I'm going to bloody curse her!" Hermione squeezed Ginny so tightly the poor girl turned the lightest shade of blue.

"Anteoculatia." Ginny gasped, flicking her wand toward the offending witch. Hermione's hands flew to her mouth, smothering the gales of laughter upon spying Pansy Parkinson with a beautiful set of antlers. Draco looked between the antlers, laughter dancing in his grey eyes as she pointed to the gasping Ginny. Politely he excused himself, a swagger in his step as he made his way toward Hermione. He reached her just as a high pitched, blood-curdling scream echoed through the canopy. Blaise jostled him lightly, pointing at Pansy.

"Best. Wedding. Ever." He dipped Daphne planting a kiss on her waiting lips, while they danced at the most unconventional reception.

"I missed you." Ginny's brown eyes widened considerably. She glanced between Hermione and Malfoy, curious. Hermione's heart beat furiously but she wouldn't allow herself to succumb to these unfamiliar emotions.

"Malfoy, we're in the company of friends. No need to say things you don't mean." She smiled lightly, brushing the hair from his brow, missing the glint of hurt in his eyes. Ginny cast a side long glance at him, winking when he glanced in her direction. He frowned at the ginger witch trying to decide if she was still as overbearing and vile as he remembered.

"So, Malfoy, still a git?" Ginny winked again. Draco leaned casually against the stone wall behind him, a smirk settling across his features.

"So, Weasley, still a ginger?" To his immediate surprise the tall witch burst into laughter, giving him a shove.

"Hermione, I'm determined to dance with my husband. Secretly, he loves to dance. Malfoy? Take care of our girl." Before Hermione could reply, Ginny had flounced away, snagged her husband's hand and dragged him to the center of the dance floor.

As the sun sunk behind the landscape, baubles of light hovered along the canopy and in the trees while the guests danced and drank. Even Denalia Greengrass seemed to be enjoying herself while she continuously hugged Blaise, smattering his face in kisses. Draco did not envy his mate, not in the least. Hermione stood beside him, maintaining a scant distance between them, when all he wanted to do was draw her into his arms.

"Dance with me." Hermione stared at the pale hand outstretched before her as she watched her tanned fingers entwine with him in silent acceptance. She allowed herself to be lead under the twinkling lights, smiling as strangers murmured intoxicated congratulations. Hermione allowed her head to touch his shoulder reveling in his warmth on her waist, the nape of her neck. They barely moved their feet, swaying to the lilting music, their eyes closed.

* * *

"Come on, then. I've something to show you." Draco held her hand, tugging lightly, leading her toward the edge of the wards. Beyond a small gathering of green shrubs, on the dirt path leading away from the Greengrass estate stood a carriage. Hermione gasped and definitely would have made a Cinderella reference, if she thought for a moment Draco would have understood. She ambled in quickly, pulling him after her. He tucked her feet into his lap while they were carried in silence toward their destination.

"Malfoy." Silently, he watched her take in their surroundings. If he had known the quaint carriage house would have elicited such a response he would have brought her here immediately. Her golden eyes were alight with excitement, her cheeks rosy in the brisk fall air, laughing she thrust open the white washed door.

"Daphne did it." Draco knew they would only be spending a few days in the cottage, but he wanted it perfect just the same.

There was a fire blazing in the stone fireplace, a large luxurious white rug before it. The walls were the lightest shade of grey, the furnishings varying in shades of creams, grays and even lavender. He enjoyed her squeal upon spying the tiny kitchen with its rustic cabinets, wooden counters, the walls splashed with pastel green. Amused with her glee, Draco followed her down the short hall, bursting open the bedchamber door. His shoulder rested against the doorjamb perusing his wife take in the sight. Golden draperies decorated the floor to ceiling windows, a maroon throw rug on each side of the gigantic four poster bed ensconced with gold bedding edged in maroon vines. Even Draco had to admit, Daphne had done a superb job bringing together Gryffindor and Slytherin in the tiny carriage house.

"Ohh." Hermione bit her lip, moaning, "I want to live here. Can we live here?" Draco followed her once again down the short hall toward the living area, her hands running across the whitewashed walls, sighing in contentment.

"Wherever would we put all your books?" He teased, tugging the softest curl he'd ever felt.  
"And what of the children? This is hardly large enough for them as well." Nonchalantly he wandered toward the bistro table in the corner, fingering the shiny green present wrapped with a silver bow.

"Children? Ginny said...I thought..." Hermione fumbled while avoiding her husband. Draco brushed the curls from her neck, his hands on her shoulders.

"I dislike demands on my person. You'd think the Gryffindor Princess would have learned that years ago." Hermione found it difficult to breathe as his lips touched upon her bare shoulder. She stepped away from him then, feeling a sense of loss without his nearness.

"What is that then? A present?" Hermione peered over his shoulder. He caught his breath, closing his eyes as her cold, soft hands touched his cheek, forcing him to look at the bistro table.

"Granger. I'm aware, I put it there. It's for you." She picked up the box, turning it slowly in her hands, her brown eyes questioning.

"For me? Was I to get you a present as well?" He shrugged, non-committal, unwilling to trust his voice.

She really had no idea how beautiful she was which simply made her more so in his eyes. She pulled the silver bow from the package, before ripping the green wrapping to shreds. Draco didn't understand the tears falling onto the table as she turned the small red box over and over in her hands, before hugging it to her chest, closing her eyes.

"Is it wrong? Should I not..."

"It's perfect. I can't believe you did this." She didn't wipe away the tears, her fingers instinctively going to the bronze clasp.

"Wait..I uhm, I couldn't save anything else, but it…it looked as though it were important to you. Gryffindor colours and all." Draco needed to explain, he wanted her to know he thought of her. Hermione blinked the tears away, gazing into his stormy grey eyes.

"My mum. S-she bought it for me first year, after I got Sorted. She didn't know what any of it meant, not really. S-she tried though. She said she found it in an antique shop and thought of me. Gods, I miss her." Hermione set the box on the table as if it were made of glass, brushing the top with her fingertips. Draco found himself actually holding his breath, as she opened the lid with a gasp.

Nestled in the interior of the box on a bed of black velvet was the most delicately beautiful ring Hermione had ever seen. The petite diamond surrounded by emeralds sparkled in the soft firelight. Draco plucked the ring from the velvet, holding her hand in his own, slipping it onto her ring finger.

"It was my mother's." He despised the weakness in his voice, the tremor as he spoke to her.  
"She preferred something more ostentatious which my father of course obliged. Mother gave it to me, after you moved into Willow Pond. If you...if you don't like it, you can pick something else, I just thought..."

"No. It's perfect." Hermione closed the box slowly, listening to the sound of the latch she never thought she'd hear again.

"They're a matched set. There's a charm. As long as I wear mine, I'll always know where you are. I'll keep you safe." Draco rested his chin on her shoulder, one hand on her waist, the other plucking the cords binding the back of her dress together.

"I-I didn't get you anything." He kissed the pulse pounding in her throat.

"I'm unwrapping it now." Draco knew he had to tread carefully if he didn't wish to frighten her away. He refused to submit to the compulsion to toss her over his shoulder and whisk her directly to the bed. Instead, he peppered her neck in kisses, leading toward her earlobe, his heart surging as her arm grasped the back of his head. His hand found hers, turning her slowly to lead her toward the bedchamber.

Hermione hadn't expected to want him. She knew she had unreciprocated feelings when it came to Draco Malfoy, but she never expected them to be so powerful. As hard as she had tried she could not continue to think of this as a business arrangement. He made her feel things she hadn't known were possible. She knew he wanted her, he'd made that painfully obvious yet she brushed it aside as lust. Lust, she could understand. Lust, was a passing fancy. He'd move on, get passed it. As long as he didn't know how she felt, he couldn't hurt her. One night, she could give herself one night to pretend he loved her.

Hermione perched on the edge of the four poster bed, chewing her lip nervously, her chest heaving with anxiety. Draco closed the door, slowly walking toward her, his eyes darkening as he roved her body. He kneeled in front of her, his hand lingering on her ankle, lifting her foot off the floor, and removed her sandal. His fingertips grazed the back of her calf, before moving on to her other slipper. With a fluid movement he had pulled her to her feet, her gown pooling at her feet before crushing her to his chest.

"What on earth is this?" Draco mumbled, frustrated by the contraption hiding her from his sight. Hermione rolled her eyes, gently removing his hands from her waist as she stepped out of her gown.

"It's a corset." She grasped the bodice of her gown, shaking it as she laid it across a high backed hair near a window. Hermione turned to see Draco's mouth a gape. "What? What is it?" She twisted her body to and fro, inspecting herself to find whatever was amiss. Instead of answering her, Draco wrenched his robes off, unbuttoning his shirt while removing his slacks.

"Come here." His voice was low, but husky, causing goose pimples to rise on her lightly tanned skin. Hermione found her feet moving forward until her slender fingers caressed his alabaster chest.

"You're mine." Hermione nodded until his lips crashed into hers. One hand tangled in her hair, while the other pressed the small of her back until they were flush. Draco tugged her curls, forcing her head backward while his lips trailed down her throat.

"For tonight." The pang of longing segued into a moment of pain, allowing herself to give in to the range of emotions coursing through her. Hermione found herself pressed into the soft bed, Draco hovered above her, vanishing her corset in a moment of impatience. He groaned as the firelight licked across her breasts. Hermione's eyes were pressed closed, light pants escaping her bruised lips. Draco ran his forefinger across her eyelids, until they fluttered open. He found himself shaking his head, unwilling to accept her terms.

"Always." Hermione's fingers ran through his platinum strands, arching against him. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her throat and the crevice between her breasts, holding them in his hands. Slowly, he worked his way down her body. A kiss here, a caress there, reveling in the sound of her hitched gasps. Draco paused for a moment before sliding her ivory, lace knickers down her thighs, discarding them on the floor.

Instinctively, Hermione drew her knees together, panic wracking her as Draco stared at her naked form. She felt his hands just above her knees, his thumbs drawing circular patterns on her skin. She gasped when his tongue flicked behind her knee, his hands running up to her hips.  
He was intoxicated with her. He wanted to see her thrash and moan. He wanted to make her scream his name. Draco knew he would have to be careful. She had never gone into details exactly, but he knew her last experiences were less than enjoyable, to be put lightly.

"Ma-Malfoy. W-what are y-you playing...at?" Draco liked the fact she was having difficulty formulating words. He tweaked a peak between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as she bit back a moan. He spread her thighs, watching her fists grip the sheets, her hair splayed in a tangled mess across the bed sheets. Draco paused for a moment and before he could stop himself, not that he wanted to, he lowered his head between her thighs, his tongue probing her folds. Hermione thrashed her head to and fro against the sheets, mumbling inaudibly.

For all the women Draco Malfoy had ever shagged, he had never done this for any of them. Never felt the desire to please them in any way. With her, it was different. He wanted to please her. He wanted to be a better person for him and Merlin help him, he wanted to love her.

"Please." Hermione gasped, yanking on his hair, her legs trembling.

"Please, what?" Draco teased, his thumb running in circles in her most intimate of places.

"I-I don't...I don't know..." Hermione groaned, her hands covering her face, her face flushed with embarrassment and need.

Draco started for a moment. She really didn't know. How could this beautiful creature not know how her body responded to being touched? How could she not know the sweet release which was imminent?

He slid himself up her petite frame, intent on capturing the parted rosy lips. He ached with need, a fire burning in his belly, only she could put out. Draco quickly shed his black boxers, while he stroked her, enamored by her response to him. He'd never seen a witch completely abandon their inhibitions before her. His fingers delved into her folds, Hermione's hands gripping her hair, shaking her head and biting her lip to withhold her sounds.

"Let me hear you." Draco tapped her bottom lip, kissing her gently. She tightened around his fingers, her chest arching, whimpers, groans and pants of release echoing in the small bedchamber.

"I need..." Hermione grasped his face in her hands, her mouth devouring his, her breasts flattened against his hard chest.

"What? What do you need, tell me." He pulled away from her, boring into her open brown eyes.

"You." She panted, "I need you." Draco didn't need more encouragement than that. He bit the insides of his cheeks, determined to be careful, yet his body raged against him. Draco held Hermione's hips steady as he eased his way into her, stopping when she whimpered, her breaths ragged seemingly laced in pain.

"Do you...do you need me to stop?" He didn't want too, but he knew he would if she wished it.

"No. No. Keep going. Please." Her hips gyrated against him, spurring him on. Draco moved slowly at first, trying to maintain control, but he couldn't. Not really. She was so warm, so welcoming, so unbelievably tight.

He hadn't been expecting that. She folded around him perfectly and he knew, he'd never be able to resist. Draco increased his pace, his hands unable to keep still. Hermione flung herself upwards, grasping his torso, her teeth digging into his neck. She caught his earlobe between her teeth, nibbling gently, her nails raking down his back as he moved within her. He was struggling to hold himself back from the sweet release he wished only to succumb.

Draco knew she was close. The tiny pants, the fingernails digging into his hips, and the incessant squirming. He felt her tighten around him, quivering, and with a crescendo gasp laced with his own muttered groan; he collapsed on top of her.

Draco shifted himself, settling into her side, his head on her shoulder. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair while their breathing settled. He propped himself on an elbow, shoving her wayward damp curls from her face. Hermione met his stormy grey eyes, a half smile painted on her lips. He grasped her face between his hands, his forehead against hers.

"I love you."


	7. She Belongs To Me

Chapter 7 - She Belongs To Me

* * *

"I want grandchildren." If Narcissa Malfoy had said it once, she'd said it a thousand times.

Patience was not one of her virtues, as her son was well aware. Draco was thankful his wife was visiting with Ginny Longbottom, at least she didn't have to be berated by his mother as well.

"Mother. It's only been six months. We have plenty of time." Draco groaned into his steaming cup of coffee, wishing he had remained in bed. Anything was better than listening to another tirade at this hour of the morning.

"I'll have you know Blaise and Daphne are already expecting!" Narcissa huffed. She cursed the day she allowed her son to remove the Heir Demand from his Marriage Contract.

"Mother..." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. He was tired of repeating himself.

"Have you even discussed it with her?" Narcissa sipped her tea, her blue eyes narrowing over the top of her tea cup. Draco tensed, his knuckles white against the silver linens.

"Actually Mother, we have. Not that it's any of your concern." Draco knew his mother well. He knew at this point it was better to provide her with the information instead of stonewalling her probing.

"Draco. You're my only child. It's natural to expect grandchildren."

"We don't know if we can." Draco mumbled, uncomfortable with the declaration. He had never thought to discuss their worries with his mother. He closed his eyes, fearing the worst when his mother gasped, her tea cup rattling in its saucer.

"Whatever do you mean? Have you sought a Healer?" Draco slammed his fist upon the table, flinching as the china danced across it.

"She won't. I'm not going to force her. You have to understand. She's been through hell you realise. It wasn't bad enough she was tortured during the war, that wasn't enough apparently. Harry Potter had to…and after everything..." He couldn't continue.

He refused to lose his cool demeanor in front of his mother. He felt the anger tinged with incredible pain forcing its way out of him, but he refused to relent. He couldn't help but recall the sight of his broken wife while she allowed him to cradle her in his arms.

"_You don't Granger, you're just guessing. Wouldn't it be better to know?" Draco stroked Hermione's unruly curls with a practiced hand._

"_Does it matter? You're stuck with me now. You simply had to go and alter the Contract didn't you? If you had left it alone…" Hermione sighed allowing herself to be lulled into submission by the gentle rocking motion._

"_If I had left it alone you'd be vulnerable to that maniac and as you know Granger, I'm selfish. I don't like to share." Draco toyed with the hem of her blouse, slipping his hand between the silk and her skin._

_He loved the feel of her skin against his palm. He loved it even more when she allowed him such liberties. She sighed once more, listening to the gentle thump of his heart beneath her head. She did so love these moments, the moments where he was kind and loving._

"_I'm all broken Malfoy. I know your mother and she'll start clambering for a grandchild soon and what are we to tell her?" Hermione stroked the ivory buttons of his shirt, allowing herself a small smile when his heart sped._

"_I'll tell her I don't care if my stubborn wife refuses to visit a Healer to confirm her suspicions. I love her anyway and I don't care if she ever bears a Malfoy heir." Draco's light laugh eased the tension in the air. It didn't Hermione but a moment to slap his chest and roll her eyes._

"_Your mother would slap you silly for even thinking such a thing. I believe she said to me and I quote, it the duty of a Malfoy wife to provide heirs to her husband in order to continue the Malfoy legacy." Hermione's smile faltered slightly, but Draco didn't allow her to contemplate the matter further._

_He yanked her toward him by the back of her neck and kissed her. She melted against him as she did every time and it wasn't long before Hermione was reclined upon the sofa. Draco deftly unbuttoned her blouse, spreading it open slowly, feasting his eyes upon..._

"Draco, my darling…"

Narcissa stood, quickly skirting the regal dining chairs to embrace her son. It wasn't something she did often, not since he was a child, but she felt it was appropriate. Draco sagged into her, clinging to his mother, dry sobs wracking his frame.

"I love her." Draco fought for control, grasping his mother's arms, setting her from him.

"I know, Draco, I know. Does she know? Does Hermione know you love her?" Narcissa brushed his pale locks from his furrowed forehead, wishing she could ease his pain.

"She doesn't believe me." And perhaps, it was that declaration which pained him the most.

* * *

Hermione found herself in The Burrow, once more, surrounded by friends she thought lost. She watched Ginny laugh at something silly George had done while Luna swayed to music only she could hear. It was like coming home. She hadn't realised how much she had missed all of them until the unexpected invitation had arrived.

"Molly. Thank you so much for having me." Molly Weasley bustled around her chaotic home as she always had, waving away Hermione's thanks.

"Of course dear, you're family. Regardless of anything else, never forget that." Molly embraced her, squeezing gently. Fred and George were showing off their latest invention, which no one happened to understand.

"Just, trust us."

"It's brilliant."

Hermione never got tired of the twin's antics nor their unison sentences. It was just part of who they were. Ginny shifted newborn Alice on her shoulder, bouncing her gently, cooing to her daughter. Luna flounced next to Hermione, grasping her hands and placing them on her rotund stomach.

"You must." Luna insisted with a whimsical sort of smile. Hermione tried to ignore Luna, while the young witch squinted her eyes, studying Hermione's features.

She jumped when the infants tumbled about, startling her. She had never felt something so extraordinary.

"That's amazing. I reckon it can't be the most comfortable thing in the world though." Hermione smiled, completely enamored with the presence of life.

"You'll see." Luna smiled her famous mysterious smile, which Hermione usually felt was off putting, but this time it was as if they shared a special secret.

"Supper! Come on then!" Molly called gaily from the kitchen of The Burrow, smiling grandly. As the scents of a lavish spread assailed Hermione, she felt ill.

Luna smiled at Hermione's sudden change in pallor. Fred rolled his eyes, dragging his incredibly pregnant wife to her feet.

"Leave her be, love. Come on then, time to feed the children." Hermione felt a pang of longing watching the pair dance their way into the kitchen.

It wasn't as if she were unhappy, per se, she was happier than she thought she would be, being married to Draco Malfoy. He showered her with gifts but it wasn't extravagant gifts she was seeking. If she was being honest with herself, she wanted something simple, like Fred and Luna. She wanted to dance to music no one else could hear. She wanted to sit in front of the fire in his arms. She wanted to hear him tell her he loved her outside of their bed. Hermione knew she loved him, desperately. She hadn't expected to, yet when she discovered she had, she embraced it. There were worse things in the world than loving your husband.

Things between them had been slightly difficult as of late. Narcissa was clambering for a grandchild and as much as Hermione wished to provide one, it terrified her. She was terrified something would go wrong. She was terrified she would be a terrible mother. She was terrified her husband wouldn't want her once she was large with child and then where would she be? He only told her that he loved her after their lovemaking before drifting off to sleep. Hermione had grown used to making light of such declarations, no matter how much it pained her to do so. And now? Well, everything was different now and however was she going to tell him?

Hermione allowed Molly to fill her plate with fresh baked rolls, roasted potatoes, slivers of chicken in a rich butter sauce even as her stomach rolled. She tried to breathe through her mouth, yet the bile rose in her throat regardless. With a mumbled *excuse me* she rushed to the facilities, barely reaching the sink in time. She rinsed her mouth with copious amounts of cold water, splashing some on her face, letting it drip down her neck. Hermione adjusted her cream blouse, determined to get through the meal. She opened the door and started.

"Does he know?" Molly Weasley barred the exit, her arms crossed, thin, wispy, red eyebrows raised in suspicion.

Hermione wanted to deny the unspoken accusation but it was Molly. Molly Weasley, her surrogate mother, and not even Hermione Granger Malfoy could do such a thing. Instead she shook her head quickly, tears pricking the corners of her dark eyes. Hermione felt herself enveloped in the warm embrace she had been seeking, finally allowing herself to cry.

"Is it that obvious?" Hermione sniffled, completely distraught. She felt Molly's robust frame shaking in mirth.

"Hermione. I've had seven children. If I'm not an expert by now, I haven't the foggiest what qualifies." She thrust a battered handkerchief into Hermione's hands, grasping her shoulders.  
"I'm sure, he'll be thrilled, my dear. How long now?" Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, knowing her answer would anger Molly.

"Thirteen weeks." Molly shrieked, instantly clamping a hand over her mouth.

"WHEN are you planning on TELLING your husband?!" Molly's shrill voice rung out, casting an instant silence across the adults engaged in animated conversation. They leaned toward the lavatory, their curiosities sufficiently piqued. Hermione mumbled, causing Molly to lean forward.

"What was that? Don't mumble, dear. It's quite unbecoming."

"I was waiting for this..." Hermione thrust a thin piece of paper into her hand. Molly flipped over the thinnest piece of parchment she had ever touched and gasped.

"Muggle Healer...gave you this...then?" Molly fingered the photograph of the tiny human being living in her surrogate daughter.

"You...you know what it is then?"

"Hermione." Molly scoffed, "Arthur is obsessed with all things Muggle." Hermione nodded quickly, stuffing the picture back into the pocket of her red skirt as Ginny and Luna rounded the corner.

"Alright then?" Luna smiled knowingly. Sometimes Hermione really detested Luna's sixth sense, but this wasn't one of those moments.

"Yes, yes, alright then, come along. Hermione needs to Floo home immediately. She has something incredibly important to discuss with Draco." Molly dragged Hermione from the tiny lavatory, shoving her toward the Floo. She kissed Hermione's cheeks lightly. "He'll be thrilled dear, and if he's not, we'll simply sic Ginny on him." With a tremulous smile, Hermione dropped her Floo Powder.

"Willow Pond."

Hermione stumbled from the fireplace into the modest living area of Willow Pond confused. There seemed to be some sort of ruckus. Doors were slamming, items were crashing against walls and there was a decidedly feminine voice screaming at her husband, if she wasn't mistaken.

"Stop it! Get out! That's my favourite shirt!" Hermione heard Draco shouting from what sounded like their bedchamber. She heard a decidedly feminine shriek and a resounding slap as she slowly walked down the hall toward the sounds.

Hermione felt instant nausea in the pit of her stomach at the scene before her. Pansy Parkinson, of all witches, stood at the foot of their bed, her slinky green dress discarded in a heap. Her hair was disheveled and her makeup streaked as she stood with her hands on her knicker clad hips. Hermione covered her mouth, hoping they did not hear her gasp of revulsion, while she retreated.

"You can't just invite me here for a shag DRACO and kick me out when you change your mind!" Hermione gagged, hot tears bursting forth.

"Invite you here?! Are you MENTAL?! I wouldn't touch you for all the galleons in the WORLD! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU CRAZY BITCH!" Hermione saw a high heeled black shoe fly out of the bedroom, sticking into the wall. She backed into the cream sofa, sobs wracking her, wishing she had stayed at The Burrow.

"I have the owl, Draco! I can give you what your Mudblood wife never could." Pansy purred, changing her tactics.

"DON'T CALL HER THAT! GET THE FUCK OUT!" Hermione heard a loud thump, hoping against hope Draco had shoved Pansy away from him, not feeling guilty for such violent thoughts.

"Draco, you don't need to pretend for me, my love." Hermione choked, squeezing her eyes shut, her knees drawn to her chest, shaking.

"Pretend? Get this through your disgusting head, you dirty slag. I love my wife. Get the fuck out of my house." Hermione heard a bit of a scuffle and peeked through lowered lids to see Pansy thrust into the hallway, her back hitting the wall with a loud thud.

"Draco. Don't be silly! You can't love her. She's a dirty Mudblood. She's beneath you. You deserve so much better." Pansy laughed, attempting to sound beguiling when in all honesty she sounded quite desperate.

"You stupid bitch. Deserve better? That's your best argument for breaking into my HOME and molesting me? And what then? You're better? You'll NEVER be better. There IS nothing better. I love her. I've always loved her. I'll always love her and I'm disgusted with myself for EVER touching the likes of YOU. Get out, before I hex you." Draco held his wand to Pansy's cleavage, rage apparent in his pale features.

He turned then, spying his wife, huddled on their sofa, her hands still firmly clapped over her mouth and sobbing. Draco's eyes darkened in fury. He gripped Pansy by the back of her neck, dragging her along, kicking her wayward clothing until he reached the front door. He kicked her clothing, before sending her sprawling out after it. Draco slammed the door and turned toward his wife.

Pansy Parkinson picked up her clothing, shimmying into her green dress smiling. Sure, it hadn't gone according to plan, she truly had intended to shag him one last time, but, she had discovered a flaw in the wards surrounding Willow Pond. She pulled her wand from her bun, her eyes narrowing. Whoever would have thought getting through the wards of Willow Pond would be so incredibly simple? Draco really should have been more careful. Pansy fingered the silver and amethyst ring on her thumb before she hurried away, eager to share her discoveries.

Draco Malfoy was frantic. He'd spoken to her. He'd apologised to her. He'd brought her tea with honey, just the way she'd preferred it lately. He'd held her hands and kissed her brow. Hermione remained silent, her arms wrapped around her knees, eyes closed.

"Granger. Granger please. I didn't ask her here. I don't know how she got here. I turned around and she was there. I didn't touch her. I wouldn't do that to you. I swear it." Hermione heard his words as she had the past hour.

She knew she believed him, yet it hurt her nonetheless. There was a certain anguish in his voice which finally convinced her to open her eyes. It hadn't missed Hermione's attention that with all his promises and words of devotion, not once had he said he loved her.

He'd told his mother, as Narcissa was so fond of informing her and even Pansy Parkinson as revolting as that was, and yet unless they were in the throes of passion, Draco was silent. He had no idea how much his silence was hurting his wife.

"I believe you." She finally whispered, the relief washing through him.

"You do? Thank, Merlin." Draco kneeled in front of her, his hands covering hers, his eyes red rimmed and searching. Hermione leaned over, kissing his forehead.

He sighed, wondering what he would have done if she hadn't believed him. He settled himself beside her on the small sofa, pulling her into his arms, needing to feel the closeness of her. Hermione allowed herself to be manipulated into his chest, reveling in the thump of his heart beneath her. Draco ran his fingers through her silky curls, his heart catching in his throat. He kept waiting for Hermione to say something, anything even if she raged at him, but she didn't. He found the silence a bit unnerving.

"I don't know what I would do without you." Draco began, his whispers sending a shiver through her. He felt her shift, her curls brushing his chin, her lips settling beneath his ear.

"More." She whispered, her cold fingers touching his cheek.

"I never thought this would be my life and I would find myself enjoying it. You used to drive me absolutely mental. Ask Blaise about it sometime, I'm sure he'd have a jolly good time telling you about my Hogwarts rages. I suppose we grew up and I didn't find you so irritating anymore. I mean, you've always been a bit of a know-it-all but it's just part of who you are and there's so much more to you than that. I'm almost sorry it took me ages to see that for myself. Mother always said I was too stubborn for my own good.

'I am sorry. I'm sorry for what happened at the Manor. I'll never ask you to return there. I'm sorry I didn't do more. Bloody hell, I'm even sorry Weasel died, only because I know how much he meant to you. I'm sorry you lost your parents and that Potter went mental. I'm not sorry I married you. Even though it wasn't ideal circumstances, still not sorry." Hermione laid on his chest, listening to the timbre of his voice, the raw emotion in his words and couldn't resist the urge to gaze upon him. She searched his eyes, looking for the slightest inclination of untruth.

"Why." Draco knew the moment was upon him.

It had become his habit to tell her he loved her after they were completely sated, in the few seconds before slumber overtook them. It was safe then. If she didn't feel the same, he never gave her the chance to rebuff him; he simply floated away, his arms wrapped around her. Draco held her face gently in his large hands, zeroing in on the flecks of yellow in her eyes and gulped.

"Granger. Isn't it obvious?" He sighed against her lips, "I love you." Hermione's fingers went to his lips then, her cheeks flushed.

"Say it again." Draco smiled, the half smile he knew she couldn't resist.

"Wasn't there really doubt? It wasn't painfully obvious?" Hermione shook her head, unwilling to trust her voice. She had cried enough that day, her eyes aching from the shedding of numerous tears.

"Gods I love you and I'm sorry, Granger. I should have..." Hermione silenced him. Her lips were surprisingly gentle and sweet, while Harry Potter stood in the corner watching with hate filled green eyes. Hermione buried her face in his neck, Draco rubbing her back softly before she spoke.

"I love you." Draco froze hearing the sentiments tickling the side of his neck. Hermione felt him tense and drew away from him slowly, suspicious.

"Really?" Hermione almost laughed at the wonder in his voice, instead nodding while chewing her bottom lip. Draco moaned kissing her with a passion, long buried. "I want to have children with you." He confessed, peppering her cheeks with incredibly soft kisses.

"About that..." Hermione began, prepared to share the secret she'd kept from him.

"Not now. We'll discuss it later. I just want to lay here with you a little longer." Draco dragged her back into his chest, his arms securely tightened around her, his heart full. A few moments later, the emotional turmoil wearing on them, they sighed, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

* * *

Harry Potter almost snapped the borrowed wand in his shaking fist. It took every ounce of his precarious self control to resist the temptation. He wasn't going to alter his plan and curse Draco Malfoy as much as he wished to do so. Harry had something much more sinister planned for the wizard who stole the love of his life.

It was ridiculously easy to gain entry to Malfoy's home. Parkinson had seemed a bit bitter after giving back the ring, but he expected that. He hadn't expected his love and his enemy to be wrapped around each other like a couple of randy teens when he slipped into the modest estate. They hadn't even bloody noticed the door opening. Harry would have thought they were completely pathetic under different circumstances. Now he was simply consumed with rage.

Securing his father's invisibility cloak around his shoulders, Harry stalked through the Malfoy estate. He expected something much more ostentatious, even in his altered state. He crept through the halls searching for Hermione's room. He found it hard to believe she would actually allow Draco Malfoy to touch her. Harry felt himself losing control. He couldn't find it. Why couldn't he find it? He discovered a bedchamber a large four poster bed in the center of the room and his stomach clenched. He threw open closets, vomiting on the light gray carpet upon discovering her wardrobe. She had betrayed him.

"Scourgify." Harry whispered, screaming in silent rage. He inhaled deeply, fingernails leaving deep gouges down his cheeks.

"_Bring her.."_ The Voice demanded. Harry nodded, a demonic gleam in his red tinted eyes. He ventured toward another room, sighing in pleasure, knowing this was _her_ place.

The gold tinted walls were covered in floor to ceiling bookcases, and more books were stacked in precarious piles upon the large desk in the center of the room. Harry opened the centre drawer, withdrawing a piece of parchment and a quill. He could be patient. He had waited this long to extract her, what was a few more hours. Harry reclined in the window seat, waiting for dawn. 

* * *

The sky was still blissfully darkened when Hermione awoke on the sofa, wrapped in her husband's arms. Carefully she extricated herself so as not to wake him. As she stood, the small picture fluttered from her pocket, forgotten. Hermione smiled, recalling their evening. A wave of nausea coursed through her, making her a bit light headed, her hand protectively covering the slight mound of her abdomen.

"Today." She decided with a bounce to her step as she pushed open the door to her private sanctuary.

Hermione had been amazed and thrilled when Draco had converted her bedchamber into a library for her. While they spent those few days in the carriage house he had instructed his mother's house elves to move her belongings into his room. Hermione laughed remembering how infuriated she was by his use of house-elves until he brought them forward to show off their eccentric items of clothing.

She browsed the numerous shelves searching for the perfect book to complement her mood. Her gaze swept her desk frowning. She did not recall setting out fresh parchment. Hermione didn't have a moment to contemplate as she found herself on the other end of a binding spell.

"_Incarcerous. Silencio_." Before Hermione could blink she was bound and silenced before the scream of terror could ripple from her chest. Harry flung the invisibility cloak onto the window seat, before stalking toward her with a sinister smile marring his features.

"Did you miss me?" He spat, nudging her with a muddy boot. He reveled in her open mouthed silent screams. "I know you've betrayed me, you filthy bitch. However," Harry purred, bending down to stroke her cheek with his wand, "if you wish to live, you'll do exactly as I tell you." He prodded her face, bruising her cheek. Hermione nodded, terror gripping her heart. Harry smiled, but Hermione did not recognize the wizard before her.

The Harry Potter, Hermione Malfoy remembered was incredibly brave, often reckless but filled with so much passion and love, it broke her heart to see this shell of hatred before her. As the sun rose in the window behind him, she caught a glint of red in his eyes which startled her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end in realisation that something decidedly Dark had infiltrated The Boy Who Lived.

Harry roughly tossed her into the wooden chair at her desk. His wand tapped the parchment, impatiently. Hermione held up her bound arms in silent question.

"Pick up the quill. Don't refuse. It would be just as easy to murder your _husband_. If you wish him to live, scratch him a note. Tell him you won't be returning. If you value his life. The choice is yours." Harry wiggled his eyebrows reminding Hermione of when they were children and he was insistent on being particularly naughty. She thought quickly, formulating a plot, willing Draco to understand and began to write. Harry ripped the parchment from her, scouring her words.

"Perfect. Come then. Time to join your friend. Missed Declan a bit, haven't you? Not to worry. You'll see him soon." Harry tore her wedding band from her finger, placing it carefully on the folded parchment. He then tossed the invisibility cloak around them and walked them right out the front door of Willow Pond, Hermione begging Draco to awaken and sense something was amiss.

While Hermione Malfoy was Apparated away by escaped lunatic Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy slumbered on with dreams of golden haired children and a half smile on his lips.


	8. Tell Me That It Isn't True

**AN: Enjoy! Also, there might be errors, I don't know and whatever, you won't die, promise. ;-)**

* * *

Chapter 8 - Tell Me That It Isn't True

* * *

Draco Malfoy awoke as the sun streamed through the picturesque windows, chilly without his wife's body against him. He ran a hand through his white blond hair before rising to retrieve his wand and stoke the dwindling fire.

Quietly he ventured into their modest kitchen, intent on preparing breakfast for Hermione. Draco assumed she was in the library, as she often was in the wee small hours of the morning. He set the kettle on to boil; searching through the cabinets for something he was capable of preparing when the incessant pounding on his door interrupted him.

"Mr. Weasley? Bit early for a visit isn't it then?" Draco held the door wide as Arthur Weasley pushed passed him, his wand drawn.

"Potter's escaped." Arthur's chest heaved while the kettle whistled. Draco hurriedly turned off the cooker, removing the kettle as Arthur followed him.

"Thought he was in Azkaban?" Draco's thoughts were a bit muddled considering it was entirely too early in the morning for him to be forming cognitive thought.

"It's been infiltrated...by Percy." Draco dropped the platter of tea cups and saucers he had been holding. Arthur Weasley's face reddened with embarrassment and rage.

"What the fuck?" While Draco had never been on friendly terms with the elder Weasley, it was still a bit shocking for him to hear Percy Weasley was a traitor.

"My sentiments exactly. Frankly, I don't know how it happened. He's been a bit distant yeah? But that's not anything new for him. We thought we were on the road to repairing relations after everything he had done before. We welcomed him with open arms and he's what then? Voldemort is gone but apparently, Yaxley, Potter, Percy and…your father have been working together. I don't know any more details about it, please don't ask. Just thought it was imperative you be aware Potter is loose. Percy just walked him right out of Azkaban. No one even questioned him!" Arthur's trembling hands held his head in horror.

"Why would they then? He's Assistant to the Minister for Magic." Draco slumped into the chair next to the distraught father, offering, what he hoped was a bit of comfort.

"You're right, of course. I've really got to be off. There's so much to be done, but I knew you'd want to hear such things in person. Keep an eye on Hermione then?" Draco nodded, wondering why his wife had not emerged, considering the commotion. Arthur Weasley shook his hand firmly before stepping into the Floo.

Draco left the pieces of shattered china on the floor, practically running down the halls of his home, hoping his wife was simply asleep in her window seat once again. It was eerily silent when he creaked open the door, his eyes immediately settling on the folded piece of parchment. In disbelief he stared at the ring he had given Hermione on their wedding day. With trembling fingers, he lifted the piece of parchment, letting the ring clatter to the desk to roll in small circles.

_*Draco:_

_I don't want to love you. Don't try, you can't be like Harry. I feel you took everything. Please leave me. I am sorry baby. This could not, is not love. We're fine. Draco, do not find us. Don't love me._

_Hermione.*_

Draco crumpled the parchment in his hand as his knees buckled, forcing him to the floor, which is exactly how Blaise Zabini discovered him.

* * *

Hermione was thrust into a dark, dank room, falling to her knees with a stifled sob.

"Sweetie? Is that you? Is it really you?" The hoarse whisper came from the darkest corner of the room and Hermione was instantly crawling toward it desperately.

It couldn't be Declan, not Declan. He was on a special mission from the Minister, wasn't he? And yet, when Hermione found herself wrapped in the sickeningly thin arms, she knew it was Declan Rosier.

"How?" She whispered, rubbing her face, wishing herself awake.

"Yaxley snatched me at my Apparition Point. Never saw him coming." Declan shuddered with the memory. It had been months since he'd seen a friendly face, though he had hoped it wouldn't be hers.

"We got owls. Said your trip was extended. They sounded like you..." Hermione was having difficulty imagining this defeated wizard as the large, burly Declan Rosier she remembered. In the dim light, she searched his face, crying when she recognised the blue eyes staring back at her.

"They made me." Declan's voice broke, his pain evident. "Couldn't even hide a message for you. They scoured every bloody fucking word and altered it to their liking, bastards."

"Harry...made me...write Draco." She sniffled then, throwing her black cloak over them, thankful Harry had allowed her to keep it.

Declan's clothes were shredded beyond recognition. She worried about how extensive the damage was, dreading his injuries.

"Every third word?" Hermione was grateful for Declan's presence and their ability to speak the shorthand that comes with a close relationship.

"Every fourth. I hope...he doesn't...give up…on me." Declan grimaced in torture as he adjusted his body to comfort his best friend. He bit his cheek until he tasted blood putting his arm around her.

"He'd be a fool." He spoke through his teeth, causing Hermione to bolt upright.

"You're injured." Declan spat the coppery blood from his mouth, refusing to admit to such weakness. "I haven't a wand, but Malfoy's taught me a bit of non-verbals. Can't really do much without potions but I can numb it a bit if you like?" Hermione didn't wait for a response, her small, cold hands instantly against his ribs, mumbling under her breath, until Declan sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Sweetie. Missed you." He coughed roughly, wincing in pain. "I didn't tell that bastard anything at all. I paid for it of course, but it was worth it. What kind of friend would I be if I couldn't withstand a Crucio or two? He's obsessed with you. It's a most unhealthy obsession, obviously. I think he would have killed me soon." Declan drew a shallow breath, hissing as he felt the shift of his broken ribs stabbing his lungs.

"I've got to get you out of here." Hermione took in their surroundings, deciding they were in some sort of dungeon, simply based upon the tiny barred window near the ceiling.

"If you see an opportunity to get out of here...take it. Leave me behind. Even if you get injured on the way out, it's better than this..." Declan's head lolled onto his chest, his breathing shallow.

"Dec. Dec. Be alright. Please, hang on. I can't lose you." Hermione shook him gently, not wishing to exacerbate his injuries yet terrified of being alone. She laid her head in Declan's lap, letting the tears fall.

"I see you've brought us the Mudblood." Hermione perked up upon hearing the disdain in the familiar voice of Lucius Malfoy.

"I brought you nothing, Malfoy. Remember to whom you're speaking you sanctimonious fucker."

"Mr. Potter." Hermione could hear the snarl of his lips, "Your language leaves something to be desired. It's beneath you to be so crass."

"Crucio!" Hermione buried her head underneath the damp cloak, never imagining Harry Potter would use an Unforgivable so freely. She shoved a corner of the cloak into her mouth to muffle the sounds of her screams.

* * *

"She left me." Blaise Zabini was really trying to be supportive, but if he heard Draco say that one more time he was liable to do something he'd regret. He thrust a tumbler of firewhisky into Draco's hand, perusing the letter once again.

"I don't know man. It doesn't sound like her. Not enough big words I can't understand. She'd say something like, "due to irreconcilable differences its best if we end this union" or some other Granger shit." Blaise gestured dramatically, teetering slightly, "This is stilted, see I know big words as well and there are tear drops on it."

"I shouldn't have told her. I scared her away." Blaise spit his drink on the floor, his dark eyes bulging.

"You fuckin' told her you love her?" Draco nodded miserably, ignoring his friend's intoxicated guffaw. "Dude. She definitely didn't leave in that case. There's no way. I'm flooing Daphne."

"Don't. I don't want anyone to know." Draco laid his head on the couch cushion, his body on the floor, rubbing his cheek against Hermione's discarded cloak.

"Malfoy. It's been a week man. You can't hide here forever. Your mother is getting suspicious. I can't continue sending nondescript owls to the Weasleys. They're getting fuckin' pissed man. At least let me send an owl to Luna. She's a nutter but she's discreet." Blaise was grasping at straws. He hadn't been able to convince Draco to do anything really. He didn't know the last time his friend had eaten, bathed or even slept.

"Eleven days." Draco's hair was matted, dark purple circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken, he was simply fading away. Blaise wished Draco were angry. Fury, rage, misplaced anger were all things he dealt with best. He was at a loss when it came to defeat. Draco lifted his head, his grey eyes watery, "Just Luna." He didn't notice Blaise's nod and subsequent disappearance.

* * *

"I'm coming." Molly Weasley stood, legs akimbo, fire blazing in her eyes and Blaise knew she wouldn't take no for an answer.

He'd spent the better part of an hour listening to Luna share the intimate details of childbirth. Blaise was incredibly nauseous but he managed to get through it. He still was unsure about the location and need of a placenta, but he wasn't willing to ask. He decided some things were simply better left unknown. Perhaps ignorance really is bliss.

It took him almost another hour to keep Luna's attention long enough to explain the purpose of his visit and by that time he'd already been fed, forced to hold a wailing newborn, worn a pair of Spectrespecs , pretended to see Wrackspurts and Nargles and wished he were dead. Blaise managed to smile when appropriate as well as nod convincingly, but his patience was waning. He needed to get the hell away from the Weasleys and beat a Malfoy like a Muggle.

"It's alright, Blaise. Fred, FRED! GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE!" Blaise retreated slowly, suddenly afraid of the pale, wispy witch. He had never heard her raise her voice. Fred Weasley stumbled down the stairs of The Burrow, his red hair sticking in every direction, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Yes, love?" Blaise snickered. Fred Weasley was completely whipped.

"I'm to visit Draco. It's a bit important. Mum is accompanying me. Lucy and Louis need to be attended." Luna's whimsical voice returned, floating across the silence. She smiled lightly, kissing her husband's cheek.

Luna slung a hand crafted multi coloured wrap over her shoulders, whisking out the door. Molly waved her wand threateningly at Fred, following her daughter-in-law with heavy steps and a deep furrow to her brow.

"Alright then." Blaise Zabini dutifully followed the Weasley women, wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into.

They Apparated to the narrow bridge near Willow Pond. Luna frowned, plucking the air in front of her.

"The wards have been penetrated." She nonchalantly commented, picking a small white flower and sticking it behind her ear as she marched toward the estate home. Molly and Blaise shrugged at each other, following Luna. She didn't knock on the door, simply thrusting it open, her light eyes casting frowns at the empty air.

"What the fuck is she doing?" Blaise leaned over to whisper to Molly Weasley, earning him a sound smack to the back of his head. "Shit! What the fu-STOP IT!" Blaise found himself scurrying around Draco's living area, hiding behind the sofa to avoid Mrs. Weasley's punishments.

Luna stood a few paces away from Draco, her head tilting to and fro, watching him. Molly knew better than to interfere in whatever it was Luna was doing. The girl was a bit strange, but surprisingly brilliant when left to her own devices.

"Draco. If you wouldn't mind, I need you to move." Luna spoke softly once, twice and then three times, her pale face reddening considerably. Blaise recognised the fringe of an outburst when he saw one. He prodded Draco with the tip of his wand, staying as far away from Molly Weasley as possible.

"MOVE YOUR ARSE MALFOY!" Blaise did not fail to notice Molly's lack of reprimand for her daughter-in-law as Malfoy crawled over to the rug in front of the hearth. "What's that then?" Luna reached under the sofa, plucking a small, square white piece of paper from the floor. Draco stumbled to his feet, ripping it from her hands.

He couldn't focus on the small black and white photo. He rubbed his eyes furiously, attempting to understand what he was seeing. He shook it toward Luna. She wandered down the hall, her hands touching various places as she murmured under her breath. Draco spun to Blaise, who shrugged in confusion, until finally turning to Molly.

"What is this?" Molly's heart broke at the desperation in his voice. Something was amiss and it wasn't in her nature to let such things go.

"Where's Hermione?" Molly gently asked, taking his hands in hers. He hissed, pulling away as if he were burned. He shook his head, backing away from her, stumbling into the arm of the sofa before sinking into it.

"He thinks she left him." Blaise supplied, offering the letter to Molly. Molly scoffed, tearing the letter from his large hands, perusing it quickly and rolling her eyes.

"Any half an idiot would know Hermione didn't write this. How long have you been holding onto this?" Blaise had the grace to blush, suddenly interested in the ground. Anything was better than the ire of an angry Weasley, especially Molly.

"Eleven days." Draco supplied, once more clutching Hermione's cloak between pale, shaking hands.

"Fools. The lot of you." Molly stalked toward the fireplace. "I'm calling Arthur. Ridiculous. Do you have ANY IDEA how much TIME you've wasted? Well, of course you don't. As for that?" Molly gestured toward the paper clutched between Draco's fingers. "It's a Muggle photo of your child." Molly smacked Draco about the back of his head in fury.

"What the fuck?" Draco muttered just loudly enough for Molly to hear him and give him another go. "Bitch." Draco hadn't absorbed the meaning behind the tiny piece of paper.

Molly called into the Floo.

"I heard that." She called over her shoulder.

"It's not a bloody secret, Granger!" Draco gasped, doubling over in emotional pain over his slip of the tongue.

* * *

Luna wandered back down the hall, catching Blaise's eye, gesturing for him to follow her. She soundlessly shut the library door behind them.

"Harry was here. He wasn't here long, but I suppose the length of his visit doesn't matter in the end. There are remnants of Dark Magic here." Luna lightly fingered the window seat, moving on to the desk and finally the chair in which Hermione was forced to compose the letter which had broken her husband.

"How do you...wait. I don't want to know. You want to see the letter then?" Blaise Zabini had learned to not question the strange Ravenclaw.

He never understood her and he didn't wish to begin now. He supposed he trusted her, as much as one could trust a woman obsessed with invisible creatures.

Luna nodded an odd smile playing about her thin lips, allowing Blaise to lead her back down the hall. She frowned, plucked the empty air and hummed. Blaise took it in stride. As long as she was able to decipher the madness, he was quite willing to do whatever she asked.

Luna sat at the regal, dark wood dining table, pouring over the letter, while chewing strands of her dark blonde hair. Molly paced in front of the fireplace, awaiting her husband and the Minister to arrive. Blaise drank, amusing himself by poking Draco with the tip of his wand.

"It's code." Luna exclaimed, waving them over. Draco was the first to make his way toward Luna, his feet being most uncooperative.

Blaise propped him against his side, before shoving him into a chair. Draco's fingers walked across the table top until they touched Luna's wrist, gripping it tightly. She smiled into his forlorn eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure. It's a message for you. Would you like me to read it to you?"

"Explain first. How the fu-uhm how did we miss it?" Blaise quickly corrected himself, his head still throbbing from his last reproof.

"It's simple really. Knowing Hermione wrote this under duress was actually quite helpful. It's not the way she would normally compose...well anything. We all know that." Luna laughed alone.

Blaise rolled his eyes as Draco's head sunk into the crook of his arms. He was overcome by an immense sense of guilt. As much as he loved Hermione, part of him was a bit terrified by the prospect of her discovering she could do so much better than him. He hadn't spent a moment second guessing her words.

"Of course, it's upsetting by itself, easy to overlook. However, since it's not a letter for me...in any case. It's stiff and if you think about it, it doesn't really say much of anything. Hermione has always been a witch with substance. Every fourth word. Here." Luna shoved the letter toward Draco, shoving his arm a bit until he focused on what was in front of him. He shook his head, unable to shove the blur from his eyes, not realising he was crying.

"It's alright. I'll read it to you, Draco. See, Hermione never calls you Draco and you never call her Hermione which really was my first clue. Yes, on with it, alright then. Draco. I love you. Harry took me. Baby is fine. Find me. Hermione." Luna smiled serenely, quite proud with herself.

"Baby? What baby?" Draco shook his head, desperately trying to clear the fog which had descended the day Hermione had left. Luna waved the tiny photo in his face.

"This baby. Your baby. Hermione's baby. She went to a Muggle Healer. I wonder how they manage to take photographs of the interior, it's really quite curious." Draco stood suddenly, lurching on his feet, a wave of dizziness overcoming him, right before he collapsed across the table.

* * *

After much prodding, Declan admitted the remainder of his life had improved considerably since Hermione's arrival. They were well fed, for one, which was an interesting change of pace, considering he had expected to be starved to death if the torture didn't do him in. Their cell was still dark and dank but they had luxurious throws to sit upon which eased the chill. Declan Rosier had to hand it to Hermione, but he thought she'd lost her mind when she started conversing with Lucius.

"Dec, don't you pay attention? It's obvious he doesn't want to be here anymore than we do. If we have a glimmer of hope of ever getting out of here, he's it." Hermione loosened the ties on her skirt, sighing in relief. As hard as she tried, it wouldn't be long before her condition was discovered. She shook such thoughts from her head, determined to manipulate their freedom.

"Sweetie, he's a bloody Death Eater. I heard about his antics at your wedding. He's not going to give one tit that a filthy Mudblood is harboring his grandchild. He wouldn't even recognise the kid as half Draco's anyway. You're grasping at straws. Come have a bite." Declan sighed in frustration. He knew it was bordering on cruel to remind her of her husband and even their wedding, but he wasn't about to let Hermione lose focus. Their objective was to survive.

When they heard the heavy stone door creak open, Declan deftly tossed Hermione the cloak she used to conceal her condition. They hadn't bothered with her since Harry had left to gather enforcements. It was both a blessing and a curse. Hermione was thankful they hadn't bothered her, and yet she was terrified of Harry's return. There was no telling what he would do in his altered state.

Hermione shuddered when she made out the shadowed form of Dolohov. His burly form stepped into the flickering candlelight with lust in his eyes and a sneer on his red lips.

"Mudblood." Dolohov licked his lips, stepping forward, "Need a bit of a chat." He yanked her wrist, his mouth contorted into some semblance of a smile in pleasure while Hermione struggled to her feet.

Dolohov shoved her into a smaller room, laughing as her hip struck the small wooden table. Before she could recover, he magically bound her hands above her head before he pressed her back into the damp stone, tearing her blouse in two. Hermione's blood curdling scream egged him on further, using his wand to slice her brassiere, his hands instantly twisting, squeezing her pale breasts to cause pain rather than pleasure.

"No. Please. You don't want to do this." Hermione sobbed, biting back the screams of terror and pain.

"Ohhh, I like it when they beg. Beg more Mudblood, louder." Dolohov twisted a nipple painfully, his nails digging into her skin before he ripped her tatty red skirt from her being. He kicked apart her feet impatiently, unbuckling his trousers.

Hermione thought she heard the steady thump of footsteps but she knew no one would come to her aid. She hoped Declan was faring better than she. Dolohov dug into her hips, forcing her forward, his teeth intent on marring the flesh of her neck.

"NO! Please. I'm...I'm pregnant." Dolohov shrugged, his grimy fingers tearing her knickers, stroking himself. Hermione clenched her fists, angry tears leaking from her eyes. "Malfoy, forgive me." She whispered to no one.

"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione kept her eyes tightly shut. Is this what death felt like? It was surprisingly cold and dark.

Strong hands covered her nudity with something rough, as a simple _finite incantatem_ released her into gentle, trembling arms. Hermione's long dark eyelashes fluttered, catching a glimpse of pale features and platinum hair. She sighed into the muscular form, her hand resting upon the familiar chest.

"Malfoy. I knew you'd come for me." She gripped his lapel with desperate fingers, fighting the darkness which clouded over her vision. "I should have said it sooner. I-I'm sorry. Forgive me. I love you." Hermione's head fell forward, unable to fight the darkness any longer.

The tall gentlemen picked up her sleeping form carefully. He scoured the walkway for the presence of other Death Eaters before easing open the cell Hermione shared with Declan.

"I'll bring something to cover her later. I mustn't tarry too long; Potter will begin to suspect my allegiance. The girl is fine. Dolohov did nothing to her." Declan closed his gaping mouth with an audible click.

"Why?" The man stood, tossing his long locks over his shoulder, opening the door. He paused for a moment, frowning slightly.

"My wife. She's quite fond of the girl." With that simple declaration, Lucius Malfoy silently closed the door. 

* * *

"Where's Dolohov?!" Harry Potter demanded, rage rolling off him in waves.

His body shook with the anger coursing through him and he welcomed it. Somewhere along the way he had begun to enjoy the unequivocal power which surged in him. He felt the fury aiding his magic and he basked in the glow of it.

"He's dead." Lucius snarled at the young wizard, detesting his very involvement in such schemes.

If he hadn't sworn his allegiance to Shacklebolt he would be lounging in front of the fire with a glass of wine. Even Lucius had to admit the persuasive qualities Narcissa possessed.

_"Prove yourself!" She had bellowed uncharacteristically, her wand steady on his heart.  
__  
__"Why should I? I'm a Malfoy! I shall not demean myself by associating with such filth."  
__  
__"Never stopped you before, Lucius." Kingsley Shacklebolt snickered. It was highly amusing to watch Lucius Malfoy cower before the rage of his wife.  
__  
__"I've paid my dues for that particular...error in judgement."  
__  
__"And you'll continue to pay! Your error in judgement almost cost me my son. My only child." Narcissa spun from him then, unwilling to allow him to see her tears. Lucius conceded then,_ _unwilling to cause her further pain.  
__  
__"What do you wish of me?" Shacklebolt hid his surprise well while propping his feet on a conveniently placed glass table.  
__  
__"Potter. Harry Potter." Lucius Malfoy's lip curled in derision. "He was struck with a curse. We don't fully understand it yet, obviously, but he's gone through some personality changes which have subtly been brought to my attention. Do you have any idea how difficult it has been keeping this sort of information from the community?_

_He's allowed Yaxley and Dolohov to escape. The Ministry can't overlook that. We'd like you to infiltrate. Show him you're still loyal and wish to continue Voldemort's legacy. Feed his inflated ego."  
__  
__"What of my son?" As vicious and cruel Lucius Malfoy had worked to project himself, he loved his wife and child. He refused to even consider a scenario that would place them in danger.  
__  
__"He's to know nothing." Lucius nodded slowly, stroking his ivory cane.  
__  
__"I won't have my wife in danger. If you wish for me to do this, she's to be sent away. I want her hidden. Do not tell me where."  
__  
__"Lucius. No! It could take months, even years. It could take a bloody..."  
__  
__"Lifetime. I'm aware, Cissa. As much as it grieves me, you must go. Malfoys are arrogant, prideful and exceedingly wealthy and yet, we are cowards. I did not protect you then, I shall do nothing but protect you now."__  
_  
"Lucius!" Harry bellowed, angry pants hissing between his clenched teeth. "I asked you the circumstances surrounding Dolohov's untimely demise. Not that we'll miss the bloke, right boys?" Harry chuckled darkly. The filthy wizards, werewolves and even a scant few witches laughed uncomfortably with him.

"My liege, Dolohov simply forgot your singular rule." Lucius felt droplets of sweat dripping down his back, yet remained eerily aloof.

"HE TOUCHED HER?!" Harry Potter hexed the gnarly wizard closest to him, which did nothing to abate his fury. "Bring me Balthazar."

Even Lucius Malfoy had the decency to shudder in revulsion. As much as Lucius thought he had revered The Dark Lord, he had always detested Nagini, the precious pet viper and Balthazar proved to be much more fear inspiring. Yaxley sneered, the closest thing to a smile Lucius had ever seen as he fetched Potter's pet snake.

It wasn't the size of the viper which intimidated Lucius Malfoy; it was the intelligence present in its unyielding coal black eyes. While it paled in comparison to Voldemort's viper, it was quite formidable in length as well as girth. In that moment, Lucius was grateful Harry Potter had never demanded he touch the hideous green and yellow creature. The flecks of black across its' back made him shiver.

"My liege, though I must say Dolohov put forth a considerable effort to taint your..." Lucius paused, bile rising in his throat, "love. I am ever so thankful I arrived in time to thwart his insidious plans." Though it pained him, Lucius bowed before a maniacal Harry Potter.

Harry's eyes were dark as pitch, day by day the lingering flecks of green were disappearing as he was swallowed whole by the Dark Magic curse coursing through his veins. The rage was slowly ebbing, yet Harry Potter would eventually cease to exist.

Yaxley chose the curse well, though even he would admit he could not have predicted this outcome. He had simply wished to escape the Aurors chasing through the forest, determined to elude them. Without pausing to think, he cast a spell over his shoulder, unintentionally mispronouncing it, hitting Harry Potter directly in the heart. As it slowly ate him from the inside out, Yaxley found himself drawn to The Boy Who Wouldn't Fucking Die. While even he did not exactly understand the effects of the curse, he wouldn't deny enjoying the perks. Harry Potter and Balthazar were his own personal protectors and what could be better than that?

"Dispose of him." Harry Potter's menacing voice rang out in the dingy dungeon as the Parseltongue flowed from his lips. Balthazar slithered around the wizards and witches, avoiding the werewolves. His forked tongue flicking with a light hiss, he moved quickly down the stairs intent to consume his meal.

"Yaxley, Balthazar will guard you this evening. Can't have anything happening to my best Death Eater, now can I? BEGONE! I require rest. Lucius, see to our _guests_." With a flourish not unlike Voldemort Harry Potter Disapparated. 

* * *

"You. Give this to her when she awakens." Lucius thrust a well worn grey gown into Declan's grimy hands. "Potter wishes you to send an owl to the girl. He's aware Draco will receive it. I can get one of you out of here. It would arouse too much suspicion if both of you disappeared. It will take some time to formulate a plan." Lucius hissed in the darkness. He had managed to make his way back down into the depths of the dungeon undiscovered as of yet.

"My ring." Declan stated, still untrusting of his friend's father. Lucius Malfoy's eyes narrowed. He had never been fond of Declan Rosier, he was from Hufflepuff after-all, however the man was intelligent.

"What of it? Parkinson has it." It wasn't exactly true; Pansy had used it to get through the wards of Willow Pond, but currently it was safely ensconced in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. It had been surprisingly easy to divest the girl of the trinket with promises of undying devotion.

"Get it and I can get her out of here."

"Potter will not hesitate to kill you." Lucius stated the obvious.

Declan nodded slowly, resigned to his fate. Lucius reached into the inner pocket of his robes, withdrew the silver and amethyst ring and thrust it into Declan's curled hand. Declan's eyebrows rose questioningly.

"Shacklebolt." Lucius Malfoy's lip twitched as he resisted the urge to sneer.

"No. Take him." Hermione's exhausted voice interrupted their obviously awkward conversation.

"Sweetie."

"Absolutely not." Declan and Lucius objected in unison. Hermione struggled to sit against the stone wall, pulling the rough wool blanket up to her chin.

"Dec. You've got to go. If you stay, he'll kill you. Harry won't kill me. In his decidedly twisted mind, he believes he loves me. Tell him..." Her voice broke with the reality of her sacrifice.

There was no way of knowing how much longer she would be the prisoner of a sociopath housed in her former friend. Hermione grit her teeth with determination. She refused to shed another tear. She had an agenda and while it did not include her, she felt a sense of relief knowing Declan would be safe.

"Sweetie. If I return without you...he'll..."

"I know. Tell him...I said...to move his arse. I don't know how much longer I can conceal my condition from Harry. Once he discovers it, all bets are off. Lucius, please, provide Dec with as much information as you can without revealing yourself. I'm sure there's a Taboo on this place, but there are ways. Dec, send the owl. The ring won't work if he's not wearing it." Hermione curled herself into a ball, her tangled chestnut curls covering her face. Neither man wished to see her spirit break, being the gentlemen they were, they turned from her.

* * *

Draco Malfoy practically tackled the small brown barn owl when it flew through an open window three days later. Blaise and Molly had forced him to eat and bathe. Secretly he appreciated their efforts but he'd be lying if he admitted he wasn't still distraught. He tore open the envelope angrily, recognising Declan's neat script.

_Sweetie:_

_Work sucks. I'm ready to be with you. Could really use your home cooking. Ready for home, love. Could really use a hug. Hey ring me. Floo works._

_Dec._

"What the fuck is this? I swear Molly, you hit me again, I'm hitting back." Draco raised his hand in warning, not even glancing at his wife's surrogate mother. Instead of reprimanding him for his language, she peeked around his arm to read the parchment.

"Wake Luna and Theo as well." Molly commanded and no one argued with a demanding Molly Weasley. Daphne headed toward the sofa to unwrap Luna, while Blaise headed toward the guest room.

Willow Pond had become their unofficial headquarters and it was getting bloody crowded if one listened to Draco Malfoy, but no one paid him any heed. It had been twenty seven days since Harry had snatched Hermione and they were at their wits end. Molly tried to keep their moral up by providing meals fit for holidays, and fussing over them, but without Hermione, spirits were particularly low.

"Clever." Luna spoke around the strands of hair between her teeth. Blaise quickly intercepted Draco as he hands were intending to surround the wispy witch's throat.

"Hey, Luna love, would you tell the pasty git behind you what it says then?" Fred winked, trying to lighten the mood while balancing the twins.

"Declan Rosier is with Hermione." Luna gazed at Draco as if he were stupid.

"How do you know that?!" Even with all the Sleeping Draught Molly had poured down his throat, he was still exhausted. Draco knew he wouldn't feel whole until Hermione was back where she belonged. Sighing deeply Luna deciphered the minimally cryptic message.

"It's really not that complicated Malfoy. I know this is a difficult time for you, but it is for all of us. We all love her. Rosier just used a basic cipher. It's similar to things we learned in Arithmancy, but not as complicated. Three, four, five, six, three, four. I suppose it's the best which could be done under the circumstances, however I…"

"Luna, what the fuck does it say?!" Draco struggled against the burly tanned arms of Blaise Zabini.

Luna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The urges didn't happen often; she supposed they had become habit when she married Fred. It was impossible to maintain a pleasant disposition when your husband happened to be a childish Weasley, but she adored him anyway. She blinked hard realising how much Draco loved his wife and how heart wrenching it must be for him.

"I'm with your love. Use ring."

Draco shoved Blaise out of his way. He tore into the room he had avoided, ignoring the constriction of his chest; Draco flung open the red box. Nestled in the black velvet where Hermione's wedding band previously sat was the delicate silver and amethyst ring she had religiously worn on her forefinger. He clenched it in his fist.

"I have it here." With a shuddering breath, he shoved the ring onto his pinkie. He never noticed how tiny her hands really were. "What now? Nothing's happened!" Molly Weasley rubbed small circles on Draco's lower back, just as she had done for seven ailing children.

"I think you're to press the stone. Its part of a matched set, Hermione told me once. Declan got them when things went fuckin' bonkers." Theo interjected, hiding behind Fred. They had all learned Molly Weasley did not care for coarse language and she was not against beating all of them.

Draco held his breath, closed his eyes and begged for his wife to appear as he pressed the round, purple stone.

There was a collective gasp as the air filled with the pop of Apparition and Declan Rosier appeared in a crumpled heap before them, sobbing.


	9. Lord Protect My Child

**AN: Dark themes, allusions to non-con, extreme language. There. Consider yourself warned and stuff. *kisses***

* * *

Chapter 9 - Lord Protect My Child

* * *

"WHERE'S MY WIFE YOU HIPPOGRIFF FUCKER!" Draco struggled against his bonds, scraping the chair across the tile, wobbling its delicate legs.

"Hippogriff fucker? That's a new one." Theo nudged Blaise, snickering.

"Molly Silenced him for a few hours yesterday. You missed it. Apparently Arthur had to snag her wand after he called her a meddling fire crotch who hadn't been fucked since Voldemort had a nose."

"We shouldn't find this funny. It should not be amusing in the least. Declan's a right mess, Granger is who fucking knows where and Malfoy is...well he's gone a bit mental hasn't he?" And yet, Theo, Blaise and even Fred found themselves snickering in mirth.

"I will hex your FUCKING BALLS OFF and shove them RIGHT UP YOUR ARSE...but you'd LIKE THAT, WOULDN'T you NOTT!"

"Silencio." With a lazy flick of his wrist, Theo Nott silenced Draco's irrational threats, shuddering at the imagery.

"Why doesn't he just release himself? It's not like he's incapable of casting non-verbals." While Draco thrashed and screamed, determined to tear the chair to splinters, Blaise found himself slightly intimidated by his friend's rage.

"He can't concentrate, obviously." Declan Rosier limped into the parlor of Willow Pond, his arm hugging his ribs.

"You're awake!" Theo restrained himself, awkwardly patting Declan's back instead of embracing him.

"Th'fuck happened Dec?" Blaise wandered into the kitchen, searching the pine cabinets for the bottles of firewhiskey he knew were hidden nearby. With a whoop of happiness, he poured a few tumblers of the amber liquid, handing them to Theo and Declan.

"She wouldn't go. We tried to talk some sense into her, but you know how she is." Declan flounced into an overstuffed denim armchair, precariously balancing his drink between bruised fingers.

"We? Who's we?" Theo conspicuously hovered near Declan, prepared to attend to his every beck and call. He fluffed the pillows behind Declan's back and threw a lightweight coverlet over his lap, tucking it in around him.

Blaise caught the furtive glances Declan threw in Draco's direction. With an exaggerated sigh and a roll of his dark brown eyes, he removed the Silencing Charm.

"YOU BLOODY WANKERS!" Draco Malfoy bellowed; rocking the chair in which he was confined until it splintered under him, crashing him to the floor in an unceremonious heap.

"Shut it, Malfoy or I swear to Merlin I'll hex your face." The soft spoken words laced with threats, effectively quieted Draco as he untangled himself him the wreckage.

Declan sipped his firewhiskey, waiting for Malfoy to return to some semblance of sanity before answering the question before him. Draco growled, raking his fingers through his mussed hair and snatched Blaise's raised glass, downing it succinctly.

"We. Who." Draco demanded, his stormy grey eyes filled with barely contained rage, yet they could all see the immense hurt behind the ire.

"Your father, actually. Don't interrupt; you know how I hate to repeat myself." Theo patted his arm, in a comforting sort of fashion yet Declan felt suffocated at the moment.

He stood suddenly, wobbling on his unsteady limbs, refusing the offered arm, while he slowly made his way to the picture window. He was unsteady and confused. While he was grateful to be out from under the thumb of a madman, he felt guilty. The space around him wasn't helping him come to terms with his freedom. After having been shoved into a dank cell for months on end, Declan had difficulty drawing a full breath with sunlight kissing his cheeks. Logically he knew it didn't make a bit of sense. He should be euphoric, but he wasn't, not yet and he knew he wouldn't be until Hermione came home.

"Sweetie had an idea. By that point I was so beaten down, I would have agreed to anything." Declan ignored the pained hiss emanating from Theo. For the first time in three days, Draco was almost calm, hanging on Declan's every word.

"What did she say?" The words were so low, they were almost missed.

"Sweetie said Lucius didn't wish to be there. She's always had the uncanny ability to see the best in people, whether they deserved it or not, you know? She started talking to him. Little things mostly. Lucius was a bit obnoxious in the beginning but then he started answering her. He'd tell her if it was raining or sunny. He'd bring extra blankets and food. Sometimes he'd just sit on the floor outside the door of our cell and listen to our conversations. I thought he had some sort of fucked up Pottermort agenda..."

"Pottermort?" Blaise snorted, refilling his glass. "That bad then is he?"

"Zabini, he's got a bloody snake. He thinks he's invincible and he's gathering Death Eaters." If Blaise Zabini could be withered with a glance, Declan could have delivered it.

"Point taken."

"It was Dolohov that really convinced me Sweetie was correct concerning Lucius." They pretended they couldn't hear the ice rattling in Draco's glass as his hands shook.

"He didn't...she's alright...isn't she?" Molly Weasley had Floo'd into the room, instantly embracing Draco, brushing the long hair from his forehead, trying to contain his storm. Draco accepted the comfort easily, which made him feel slightly conflicted.

"Potter was somewhere. Gathering reinforcements, being a fucking maniac, I don't know. We'd managed to keep the pregnancy under wraps. Always made sure she was covered or sleeping whenever they brought us food, but Dolohov, fuck what a prick he was. He'd always manage to sneak down and say absolutely horrid things, trying to get a rise out of us or something. He told Sweetie he wanted to have a bit of a chat and dragged her out. Potter had made some sort of declaration that no one was to touch her, but Dolohov had other ideas. I heard her screaming. I couldn't...I couldn't do anything. Couldn't stand, didn't have my wand and then she was being carried back into our cell. Sweetie was all covered with this tatty blanket, but it was obvious her blouse was torn and then I looked up and it was Lucius. Lucius Malfoy saved her. He killed Dolohov. He brought her new clothes. He told us he could get one of us out of there, but just one. Lucius and I agreed it should be her. He found out about the baby. Sweetie disagreed."

"Of course she fucking did. She's Granger." Blaise interjected, ignoring the glare of Mrs. Weasley. He was used to it by this point.

"I mentioned the ring. That's how Pansy got through the wards and allowed Sweetie to get snatched in the first place. Potter took it from me. He always had been suspicious when it came to my quick arrivals during her times of need. Lucius managed to get it back from her. When Sweetie was sleeping, we were just going to stick it on her stubborn finger and get her out of there. She said Potter wouldn't kill her. She said he loved her and she'd be fine. She said...if I stayed, she was staying because she couldn't bear it if someone else she loves died." Declan took a ragged breath, hastily wiping tears from his blue eyes.

"Bloody Gryffindor." Draco's head rested on Molly's shoulder, accepting her comfort.

"I fell asleep. I didn't mean too. It wasn't part of the plan. It's just..."

"You were broken, dear. Don't blame yourself." Molly was right of course, but Declan still felt the weight of failure, heavy in his heart.

"I woke up the second before I was whisked away. She kissed my forehead and smiled. She fucking smiled at me. I asked Lucius, before, why he was helping her, helping us. And he said...he said because Cissa was fond of her. Shacklebolt told him about the ring. I'd like to speak with him. Oi. Malfoy. Sweetie told me to tell you...move your arse." Declan's large, tanned hands, covered his face in shame, his shoulders shaking.

* * *

Harry Potter stood before his collection of Death Eaters, stroking Balthazar lovingly, the barest hint of a smile on his thin lips. This was all for her, surely she'd understand that. He'd always been pulled to her. When he was a child, he had believed it was only because of her staggering intelligence. Without her, he wouldn't have accomplished half as much.

He didn't remember being in love with her then, He didn't remember many things from then, but that didn't matter now. In the few moments prior to Ron Weasley's unexpected death, he had promised to take care of her. He had promised to keep her safe and that was exactly what he was doing, wasn't it? She had been corrupted by Malfoy. Ron's Hermione would never allow that filth to touch her and now she was married to him? What sort of spell had been cast upon her? Harry Potter knew he'd require an army to thwart the madness of Draco Malfoy.

The tiny remnants of his true nature attempted to remind him it was unnecessary, yet he struggled against the pull. The glimpses of memories flickered until he was forced to watch them. Hermione, it was always Hermione, laughing, huffing, yelling, hugging and Harry didn't feel as if he was in love with her. He felt a surge of love for her, but the familial sort of love.

"_If anything were to happen to me…"_

"_Nothing's going to happen to you, Ron. Don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't have come; Hermione's going to be furious with you." Ron laughed bitterly, giving Harry a half shrug._

"_She doesn't love me; did I ever tell you that? I mean, she loves me alright but not in the way I love her. It bothers me, but I still care about her, ya know? So, if anything happens to me Harry, I want you to promise me you'll look after her. She'll resent it, but well she never really needed looking after, but it would make me feel a bit better about walking into my death, Harry. Love her, the way she needs to be loved, not the way I loved her. It was never right, not for her. She always deserved someone better than me, someone smarter at least. Promise me Harry. Promise me and I'll distract Vo-Vol-that bastard for you and you can finish this."_

"_I-I promise Ron, but…" Ron smiled. It was quick, but poignant and then he was running through the trees bellowing until he exploded into red mist decorating the forest._

Harry Potter scrubbed his scar with the pads of his fingers, willing the slow burn to cease. He felt clear headed for the moment. He blinked a few times, staring in horror to see an impressive gathering of Death Eaters all looking to him.

He was still in the midst of processing his surroundings when the news was delivered.

"My liege, Rosier is gone." His scant moments of clarity were gone, consumed by an overwhelming rage.

Pansy Parkinson never thought she would be trembling before the likes of Harry Potter and yet there she stood. She altered her weight between her sensibly clad feet while resisting the urge to bolt from the deep recesses of the dungeon. She never had been fond of such dark confining spaces. Sadly, they reminded her of her less than stellar childhood. Pansy sighed, inwardly cursing herself for adhering to her father's demands in the first place.

She had dutifully followed her father's wishes. Pansy really hadn't a choice in the matter, which father constantly reminded her while berating her mother for being incapable of providing a proper male heir. He had been furious when Draco had married the filthy Mudblood, spouting his pure-blood bigotry in long winded rants.

Pansy hated Hermione Granger as much as most people had hated Voldemort, so of course she had joined Potter, with bells on so to speak. She was thrilled with her first orders. It hadn't been as difficult to penetrate the wards of Willow Pond as she had originally thought, once the ring was brought to her attention. Pansy reminded herself to thank Percy Weasley for the beneficial information. She didn't do it for Potter, not even a little. She had done it in hopes of tearing apart Draco's relationship. While Pansy was well aware of the fact she no longer loved him, she harboured animosity toward him, simply because of his happiness. A happiness she herself was under no delusions she'd ever find.

"Gone? Lucius..." Lucius Malfoy much preferred the lazy drawl to the psychotic bellowing.

He hurried down the half dozen stone steps toward the cell Declan Rosier had shared with Hermione until recently.

"It's time. Are you sure you're ready?" Hermione grasped Lucius Malfoy's bony hand in her own, struggling to her feet. The small mound of her abdomen was sufficiently concealed by the gown Lucius had provided and she was immensely grateful. Hermione wasn't sure she could trust her husband's father, but she had no one else. Her knees buckled and he caught her, searching her face with uncharacteristic worry.

"I want to go home." Lucius supported her slight frame easily, helping her up the stairs into the snake den.

"I'll do my best. I promise." Hermione hated her moment of weakness.

She was tired and scared, wishing only for the comfort of a man she never dreamed she would love. She refused to allow herself a moment of respite. Hermione knew if she lingered on thoughts of her home and her husband, she would break. And while she didn't know what Harry Potter's ultimate plan was, Hermione did not wish to be on the receiving end of his ire.

"My liege, Parkinson is correct. Rosier has vanished." Lucius bowed, his arm still supporting his daughter-in-law.

"Why are you touching her, Lucius?" Harry's red rimmed eyes darkened in silent rage.

"My apologies, my liege, I'm afraid the poor girl has little strength to stand on her own."

With a wave of his wand, Harry Potter summoned a luxurious chaise for Hermione. She smiled lightly at Harry, surprised to see the green in his eyes at her small gesture. Gratefully she sunk into it, a soft sigh escaping her blistered lips.

"Mione, could you tell me please, where is your friend?" Harry walked slowly through the group of wizards, reveling in his power as they parted in front of him. Hermione looked into his eyes, a spark of hope lit in the flickering seconds she saw the boy she considered family.

"Harry, it's lovely to see you." Hermione had practiced the words so many times they flowed off her tongue as if they were true. She allowed herself a small smile of triumph as his eyes softened. "Honestly, I don't know. I've been so tired lately. It's quite uncomfortable in my..._quarters_." Lucius felt a moment of pride; apparently Hermione had the deviousness of a Slytherin. Perhaps his son had chosen well after-all.

"I heard Declan conversing with a woman before I fell asleep. When I woke, he was gone." Hermione stared at her lap, allowing a few tears to drip from her eyelashes. Harry was instantly at her side, his hands covering hers in comfort.

"Do you know who the woman was?" Harry prodded, his spindly arms circling her shoulders. Hermione nodded slowly, raising her head to meet the startled eyes of Pansy Parkinson.

"Harry, you do know how much I detest conflict. I spent most of my time at Hogwarts in the library or trying to keep you and Ron level headed. Honestly, Harry, as much as I love you, I don't wish to go back down the road of Gryffindor versus Slytherin." Lucius almost stood in applause, but he didn't have a death wish.

Hermione allowed herself another small smile, patting the hand Harry placed on her knee. She frowned lightly at Pansy, watching the sly witch retreat cautiously toward the back of the room. Harry followed her gaze, his eyes darkening, the slight traces of green instantly erased.

"Parkinson! What have you done?!" Harry didn't wait for her reply.

He stood quickly, his rage apparent. Hermione ambled to her feet slowly, keeping the nauseating contact between them. His minions separated quickly, not wishing to be caught in the cross fire, as his wand steadily rose. Lucius cleared his throat lightly, drawing Hermione's attention. She saw the slight nod out of her peripheral vision and holding her breath, she placed her hand over Harry's.

"Harry." Hermione leaned into him slightly, her head brushing his shoulder. She could feel the tension ebbing from his posture, his chin touching her curls, his arm instinctively wrapping around her, pulling her close. Hermione swallowed, willing herself to follow through. It was her only chance and if it didn't work? She could find herself on the other end of Pottermort's brandished wand.

"Harry, don't, for me?" Harry Potter was having trouble channeling his rage.

He knew he should be throwing hexes at Pansy Parkinson; she had done something to anger him, hadn't she? Yet, he found himself concentrating on the slight witch in his arms, a sense of calm and peace overcoming him. He allowed his hand to be lowered and Merlin help him, his fingers loosened on his wand. He felt her leaving the warm embrace, felt her head leaving his shoulder, but he was so overcome with an emotion he thought had been lost to him, he allowed it. Harry Potter was in a haze and he couldn't fight to the surface fast enough. He swayed on his feet, which is the exact moment Hermione Malfoy made her move.

Hermione felt as if she were moving in slow motion. She felt her fingers grasp Harry's wand as he released it to her. She spun in a circle, releasing his hold. She thrust her hand out behind her, hoping Lucius would accept the subtle offer. She felt cold fingertips in her palm, she hoped it was Lucius, yet she couldn't spare the moment to check. Hermione was throwing caution to the wind; and using Harry's wand she Apparated.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy instantly twisted his body, cushioning their fall. He hadn't expected Hermione to offer her assistance in his escape from the madman as well, yet he accepted it without hesitation. He cradled Hermione, unsurprised by her inert form. The poor witch hadn't been able to use her magic properly in months; Apparition took too much from her.

He glanced about, unfamiliar with his surroundings, wondering why Hermione would Apparate to rubble. Lucius took Harry Potter's wand from her hands, snapping it in two, unwilling to risk their safety any further. He carried Hermione to the back garden, waiting for her to awaken. She stirred slightly in his arms, the chill in the air making her shiver.

"Lucius? Did we do it?" Her voice was so weak and weary he barely caught her words.

"Yes, my dear. You were splendid. However, it wouldn't be prudent for us to remain in our current location. Wherever we may be." Hermione almost laughed at his penchant for stating the obvious. She struggled to sit up, no longer comfortable in the arms of her father-in-law when she was so very close to her husband.

"I used to live here, with Declan. I didn't think it would be a good idea to Apparate to Willow Pond." Hermione refused to cry or even relax for that matter. They weren't out of the woods yet.

"Willow Pond?" Lucius arched a pale eyebrow watching her attempt to keep her composure.

"Our home." She said simply, standing before what was once her flat. She searched the folds of her gown, looking for Harry's wand. "Harry's wand? Where is it? I have to contact them." Lucius sighed.

"Snapped it."

"You snapped it? Why would you do that? How will I get back now?" Hermione was standing on the edge of hysteria. Lucius slapped her soundly.

"Use mine." He thrust his wand into her shaking hands, unapologetic for his actions.

"Expecto Patronum."

* * *

"Theo! Please stop antagonizing Draco. He's intolerable enough. Blaise, put down the firewhiskey. George! Shouldn't you be at the shop? Fred and Luna! If you MUST snog, please, do it at home! Declan, go back to bed...ALONE, Theo!" Molly Weasley wiped her forehead with her apron while scurrying around Willow Pond attempting to prepare supper.

"Molly..." Draco's tumbler crashed to the floor, instantly shattering as he felt the change in the wards. It was the slightest ripple, normally it wouldn't affect him at all, but it was different this time. He stood slowly, his eyes never leaving the front door. Molly stood behind him, prepared to pick up the pieces when the otter floated into the room. Declan choked on his tea when it spoke.

_"London bridge is..."_ It dissipated into mist after delivering its cryptic message.

"WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?!" Draco's fingers dug into Molly's shoulders as he shook her, begging her to have an explanation.

"Falling down." Declan limped forward, prying Draco's fingers from Molly, giving him a bit of a shake. "Malfoy. MALFOY!"

"Get the fuck off me." Draco stomped away, punching the innocent cream wall.

"London bridge is falling down."

"Who gives a shit?"

"It's a Muggle nursery rhyme. She's at the flat."

"Muggle nursery rhymes? Dec, make sense." Declan wished he had two working arms so he could punch Draco in his stupid face.

"Does it matter? She's at our flat. The rubble of our flat. BECAUSE IT FUCKING FELL DOWN GO GET HER!" Declan wheezed from the exertion of screaming at Draco, yet he got his point across.

Draco raced out the front door of Willow Pond, running through the overgrown sodden grass until he reached the narrow bridge. He saw Blaise, Molly and even Fred and George chasing after him, but he didn't wait, he couldn't.

* * *

"GRANGER!" Draco Malfoy stood on the street in front of the rubble, screaming for his wife.

He was instantly clamoring over the stones, disregarding the tear in his slacks, the blood on his knees. He had more important things to worry about. For a moment he thought his eyes were deceiving him. Draco stood on the highest point of the rubble, staring into the back garden. He rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly. He had to be seeing things. Was that his father? Was his father propping up his wife?

Hermione turned her head then, her heart beating rapidly, wishing to burst from her chest. Lucius tensed behind her spying his son.

"Malfoy." The single word was a sigh of relief, of happiness and even love.

She pushed off Lucius Malfoy's shoulders, hoisting the skirt of her gown above her ankles. She swayed for a moment, turning to watch Draco slip and slide his way down the wreckage. Somewhere along the way he had lost a trainer, yet it wasn't important. Not to him.

He watched her take a tentative step forward and then another. He couldn't move. Draco was terrified she wasn't real and if she wasn't real, he would come undone. His fingers were covered in soot and grime, yet he raked them through his shaggy platinum locks anyway. His steel grey eyes opened and closed, waiting for her to disappear as she had so many times in his nightmares.

"Malfoy? Are…are you alright?" Hermione stood mere inches from her husband, taking in his gaunt face, streaked with soot and his unkempt hair. His eyes were tightly shut, making Hermione think he was afraid of her. She raised her hand, touching his cheek and felt his breathy exhale.

"Granger. You're real?" Draco stared into her, his hands grasping her face in his hands, breathing her in. Hermione laughed lightly, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes while she nodded.

"Yes. Yes, Malfoy. I'm here. I'm real." The words barely escaped her chapped lips before his were crashing into hers.

Draco held her delicately, as if she would crumble to pieces in his arms. Hermione couldn't make out the words his trembling voice was murmuring into her hair, but it didn't matter. She was back where she belonged.

"Draco." While there wasn't a hint of disdain dripping from the voice of Lucius Malfoy, Draco did not appreciate the interruption. "It's not safe here." Lucius kept a respectable distance, yet he was anxious.

"He's right, Malfoy." Hermione attempted to pull back from their embrace, yet Draco wouldn't release her.

"I'll bring you home." He knew his father was watching him. He could feel the gaze but he wasn't ready, not yet.

"Will it be safe there? I don't...I can't..." Hermione buried her face in his shoulder, unable to continue.

"It'll be safe enough, until we figure out something better." With reluctance he released his wife, turning to his father. "Father, come along then." Lucius found there wasn't a dignified way to walk through sodden grass. He stood beside his son, the tension thick in the air and placed his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Can you do this?" Hermione's tear stained face almost broke his heart.

"I haven't a choice. Stay close. I wouldn't want to splinch you." Hermione gripped Draco's lapel, her body pressed against his, as the familiar pull washed through her.

* * *

After the commotion of their arrival died down, Draco and Hermione found themselves safely ensconced in their bedchamber. She had bathed and dressed in clean clothes, her own clothes. She had suffered through Molly's ministrations and even allowed a Healer to examine her, but now all she wished to do was sleep. She crawled across the four poster bed she remembered fondly, yanking her nightgown over her bruised knees.

Draco refused to let Hermione out of his sight. He still kept expecting her to disappear. She had demanded he shower and shave and as much as he hated being away from her, he felt better. She scolded him for his eating habits and even the fact that he'd lost weight. Draco climbed into bed behind her, bringing the Weasley created quilt over them. He pressed his chest against her back, his fingertips sliding down the thin strap of her nightgown. Draco pulled her golden curls from her neck, resting his face in the crook and sighed. Hermione grabbed his hand, settling it on her swollen abdomen.

"I keep expecting to wake up from another dream."

"Me too." Hermione breathed in the smell of fresh linens and reveled in the feel of her husband. "How long was I gone?" Her eyes were closing with exhaustion while her fingers danced upon her skin, above where their child slept. Draco kissed her shoulder gently.

"On day seventeen, Luna deciphered your cryptic letter. Day thirty two, I got Dec's owl and he showed up on the parlor floor. He slept for a week. Three days later your otter said something about bridges. Forty-two days. Forty-two long, horrid, miserable, I wished I were dead days." Draco felt a wave of guilt wash over him when Hermione's shoulders began to shake.

"I-I'm sorry." She brought his hand to her lips, kissing it, holding it against her chest.

"Granger. My little Gryffindor Princess… you've nothing to apologise to me for. As much as I hate to admit it, Harry fucking Potter was bloody brilliant. I'm sorry for believing for even a nano-second that you left me. I realise now it didn't make a bit of sense. One moment I'm spilling my guts like a bloody Hufflepuff and the next morning you're gone? Ludicrous honestly, but I couldn't see past my own pain. Blaise actually convinced me to talk to someone. I really should have listened to him sooner. We could have found you sooner or at least started looking sooner. Where the bloody hell were you, Granger?" Hermione pressed into Draco's back, making him retreat from his closeness so she could roll onto her back. She wanted to see his face. She needed to see his face.

"I honestly don't know. It was a dungeon. Cold, dark and dank, terribly drafty and wet. Not unlike the dungeon at Malfoy Manor from what I've been told anyway..." Draco would have pressed further yet his wife had finally succumbed to slumber.

He watched her brows furrow and her body tense beside him, feeling another pang of guilt. His steel eyes softened at the sight of Hermione's protruding stomach. Before he could stop himself, his hands were resting on either side of the soft mound in wonder.

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy was terrified. He'd never really been around children. He didn't know the first thing about being a good parent, being a good father. If his father was any indication, he was screwed. Sure Lucius Malfoy was attempting to turn a new leaf, but that didn't change Draco's incredibly cold childhood. His mother was the only shining light in his life, before Hermione. How could he keep his child safe when he couldn't do the same for his wife?

Molly Weasley eased open the master bedchamber door, to see how Hermione and Draco were faring. Her eyes danced in amusement, a smile on her full lips upon spying their unlikely entanglement. One of Draco's arms was possessively thrown over his wife, while his face was pressed against the side of her stomach. Hermione's hand was tangled in his hair while the other was casually thrown over her head. Molly felt a sense of peace witnessing the contentment upon their slumbering features. She closed the door silently with a soft sigh. While she knew they should be relocating the freshly reunited family, she simply didn't have it in her to disturb them.

* * *

"Sleeping? They're sleeping? Well, that's bloody delightful for them until Harry fucking Potter blasts through the door and we're all DEAD!" Theo Nott always did have a penchant for dramatics and this was no different than another other occasion.

"Nott. Shut the fuck up." Blaise pointed his wand at Molly, daring her to interfere. Molly huffed stalking across the hardwood floors toward her husband. "Your boyfriend is barely on his feet. Hermione's been through the ringer. Draco's been an intolerable git and oh, let's not FORGET, Lucius Death-Eater Pottermort's best fucking friend Malfoy is snogging Narcissa in the kitchen. Please. Let them sleep." Daphne wrapped her arms around her husband with difficulty.

"Blaise? Uhm, Theo has a point. We uh need to get out of here. As soon as possible." Daphne gasped, expelling air with a hiss, laced with pain. Molly took a quick step toward her, but Daphne shook her head frantically.

"Where are we to go? Potter knows everywhere. Hogwarts? Won't work. The Burrow? Definitely not. Malfoy Manor?" Arthur interjected, eyeing the snogging Malfoys. Lucius broke away from Narcissa, spinning on his heel toward Arthur.

"Most definitely not an option." Narcissa ran the faucet in the sink, busying her hands until the flush upon her cheeks lessened.

"The wards there are almost impenetrable aren't they?" Arthur Weasley pointedly ignored the smear of crimson along Lucius' jawline, simply tapping his chin. In other circumstances it would have amused him greatly observing Lucius Malfoy furiously scrub the remnants of his snogging session from his face.

"They were. After the Second Wizarding War, my dear wife insisted we close off the dungeons from the rest of the Manor. I was hesitant of course as they'd always been a long standing part of Malfoy history. Of course, one does things simply for the love of a beautiful woman they do not deserve, therefore I acquiesced to her demands. However, there are still tunnels which lead to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor though the rest of the house is now inaccessible. Harry Potter and his newfound Death Eaters have hidden within the bowels of Malfoy Manor." Lucius Malfoy spat the words, laced with a hatred normally reserved for those beneath him. "I removed the Apparition wards in order to keep his disgusting followers from attempting to break into the Manor itself. If I hadn't, Ms Granger and I would not be standing before you today." He arched a singular pale blond eyebrow.

"Malfoy, you fucker. Her name is Malfoy." Declan Rosier stood unwavering in the sight of Lucius, sucking the bile of hatred back down his throat.

He'd heard plenty, where Lucius Malfoy was concerned and he would not tolerate the derision emanating from the older wizard any better than Draco himself would. He watched Lucius' mouth open as if to retort and Narcissa jabbing him none too gently in the ribs; with a snap his mouth closed.

"What's left then?" Theo tossed his feet upon the low table, earning him a glare from Molly Weasley.

"Muggle London is out. Hogsmeade is out. Diagon Alley is out. Shell Cottage is out. Any familial estates are definitely out." Arthur Weasley paced the modest living area, his hands straying to his thinning red hair.

"There's always the Chateau..." Blaise grumbled, turning to his wife for confirmation to find her gripping the dining table with white knuckles.

"That's bloody brilliant, Zabini, if anyone knew WHAT THE FUCK you were talking about!" Daphne's uncharacteristic bellow caused the men folk to jerk slightly before backing away slowly.

"Chateau? Whose is it then? Where is it?" Arthur piped up, motioning for his wife to aid an obviously struggling Daphne.

"It's mine." Declan spoke softly. "My mother was a muggle. Her family left it to me. Actually I was planning on gifting it to Sweetie for a wedding gift, but, I found myself a bit delayed." He laughed harshly.

"Does Potter know about it then?"

"No, Arthur. It's not as if Harry and I were best mates or anything. Blaise, Theo and I used to take holiday there."

"Is it big enough then? We'd all have to go. I do mean all. As soon as possible."

"NOW. RIGHT. NOW!" Daphne screamed, punching her husband in the back.

"What's wrong with Daphne?" Theo edged a bit closer while Daphne's blazing eyes were closed.

"Baby's coming." Molly answered succinctly as if she were offering a spot of tea. Blaise Zabini paled considerably.

"Merlin's beard! I've got to take her to St Mungos!" Blaise paced the room twice in his hurry to gather his wife, when Theo snatched his wand.

"Can't mate."

"She can't have it here!" Blaise yanked on his dark hair, trying to reach his wife who continually slapped his hands and even kicked him.

"Where's the Chateau then? Is it safe? Is it equipped?" Declan nodded slowly at Arthur's questions, pulling his plum robes around him securely.

"I'll write it down for you. Burn it afterwards please."

"Fidelius Charm?" Lucius interjected, poking his narrow face into the parlor.

Declan nodded and sighed. It wasn't that he didn't wish to divulge such a potent Secret to ones in mortal danger; it was simply the last link to his muggle mother. He knew Hermione would understand that better than anyone.

"We shouldn't all disappear at the same time. It would raise suspicion. I'm assuming you wish Fred, George, and Luna to accompany us as well?"

"Ginny and Neville! We can't leave them behind!" Molly shouted over Daphne's increasing groans of pain.

"Topsy!" Declan bellowed, while the on looking witches and wizards glanced about in confusion. With a small pop a tiny house elf dressed in an electric blue tutu and a tiny toddler tee with 'got milk?' emblazoned on the front appeared. Her large green eyes blinked rapidly, as her oversized ears waved. She clenched her tiny hands together while her knees knocked with nerves.

"Y-yes M-Master?" She squeaked in a musical falsetto voice.

"I've told you not to call me that Topsy. I need the Chateau prepared to receive guests. Please make sure the kitchens are fully stocked, the pantries as well. We'll be utilising most of the bedchambers so they'll need fresh linens. The bathing rooms will require fresh towels, and necessities. I'm sure you know what to do, Topsy. However, I shall not be utilising the master bedchamber. Prepare quarters on the lower level."

"How many peoples should I's be expectin' Mister Decs?" Topsy's small voice wavered slightly, yet she bounced on her tiny feet in excitement. It had been a very long time since she had been able to received guests.

"A rough estimate? Somewhere in the neighbourhood of 15 witches and wizards, a few small children, so we'll require bassinets as well."

"Yes sirs! Topsys can doose it, but Misters..."

"Topsy, it's a lot of work for one house elf, please contact your sisters from Mr. Nott's home and bring them along. We'll also require some help with transportation." Topsy clapped her hands in glee, popping away and back hardly before Declan could catch another breath.

"We is heres! Oh, Mister Decs, she's needs helps." Topsy's sister, Flopsy pointed at Daphne who had a sheen of sweat upon her brow.

"Yes. Please take Ms Daphne first. One of the lower chambers should do quite nicely for her and Mr. Blaise." Flopsy bowed quickly, her sparkly gold shirt shimmering in the candlelight. She rushed over to Daphne Zabini, wrestled a hand from her and they disappeared with a pop and a scream.

"What the fuck did you do that for?!" Blaise ambled around the table, wishing Declan was in better health so he could punch his head.

"Her screaming was irritating me. Blaise, take Molly. She'll help Daphne until we manage to gather the rest of the troops. Arthur, if you could Floo Fred and George that'd be helpful. Perhaps Ginny and Neville as well? Theo, take Narcissa and come back." Declan Rosier might have been in Hufflepuff, but he was able to command control of a volatile situation immediately.

Within moments, Fred and George stepped out of the Floo, brushing soot from their robes.

"What's all this about?" They spoke in unison, their eyes narrowing upon spying Lucius Malfoy.

"Hermione escaped. Lucius helped. We've got to leave before Potter comes here. We're not safe. Get your kids and your wife and come back quickly." Arthur supplied easily while wringing his hat into an unrecognizable shape.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Wiltshire, England, Harry Potter bellowed and snarled in a rage, hexing anyone who dared to venture toward him. Yaxley finally took it upon himself to bind the wizard, for the safety of his followers and himself.

Pansy Parkinson attempted to make a run for it, yet only managed to reach the bolted door. Yaxley's gnarled fist tangled in her dark hair, yanking her backward. Pansy's feet caught and she stumbled, wincing as Yaxley slammed her into the rough stone wall.

"Can't have such a pretty thing like you leaving. I reckon we'll be needing more of you in order to keep Mr. Potter calm. He'll expect you to be stand offish in the beginning. I'm sure you'll quickly learn to play nice." Yaxley leered in her face, his eyes filled with lascivious intentions.

Pansy gagged on the fumes of his body odor and willed herself to remain calm. She knew Yaxley was a bit touched, but his implications were too farfetched even for her. She struggled lightly, her hands instinctively pushing against his chest, even as he forced his thigh between her legs. Pansy stilled, not wishing to incite him.

"Ohh, does the pretty little doxy not wish to play?" Yaxley hissed into Pansy's ear as he began shoving her across the dispersing crowd.

Not an eye blinked in her direction, though there were quite a few inappropriate brushes and gropes on her person. Pansy swallowed hard, maintaining her silence. She knew it would be worse for her if she screamed. She had long become accustomed to the sounds of a woman's scream and the chants of encouragement stemming from the ragtag group of wizards Potter called his followers.

"Isn't this a pretty spot?" Yaxley's stringy blond hair swung in Pansy's face before he tore her wizarding robe from her. She regretted her choice of clothing the moment Yaxley licked his lips.

Pansy tried to pull on the hem of her short skirt, but he clucked at her, halting her movements. Instead, she buttoned up her blouse, hiding her cleavage from his roving eyes. She wished she had thought to secure her wand to her thigh instead of leaving it with Tracey. She was defenceless and alone with bloody Yaxley.

The cell he had pushed her into was small with a hardwood table in the center. The flickering moonlight and the light glow of the stars from the small barred window cast shadows upon the stone. Yaxley shut the heavy door behind them, barring it securely before resorting to magic to warding it heavily.

"It's only fair I get to taste a bit of the pie before Potter claims it for his own. Sutter is toying with a long lasting Polyjuice, isn't that lovely? You'll make a beautiful Mudblood, don't you think? For the life of me I can't understand Potter's unhealthy obsession with her, but it keeps me alive ya see…" Yaxley stalked forward with intent, his teeth glinting with his smile when Pansy whimpered. "Come along girlie, play nice with your new friend."

Yaxley captured Pansy's hands, laughing when she attempted to bat away his hands. He twisted them behind her back, securing them in one hand, while his other paid homage to her clothed breasts. He was too tall, too strong, too determined and Pansy knew she didn't stand a chance, but she wasn't willing to go down without a fight.

The oxygen was ripped from her lungs when Yaxley slammed her onto the tabletop. Pansy closed her eyes as she was divested of her clothing and the rough gnarled hands explored the mountains and valleys.

"So soft, so young, so beautiful." Pansy dreamt of days when she would be free. She longed to be free of the madness, free of the mayhem, free of the hatred.

The scream tore through her throat as her back scraped against the rugged table. She could feel the splinters embedding in her skin; feel her blood seeping into the table as her screams filled the air.

While Pansy screamed, Harry roared, the sounds of their pain filling the night.


	10. Everything Is Broken

**AN: I've edited this chapter to death...haha. It's not perfect, but nothing ever is...so yeah. Enjoy my pretties! Thank you much. *kisses***

* * *

Chapter 10 - Everything Is Broken

* * *

Draco wandered down the empty cream corridors of the Chateau embracing the eerie silence. One would expect a constant cacophony of noises with the number of witches and wizards inside the walls, but in those few moments before the sun rises, it was quiet. Those were the moments Draco cherished the most. It was a substantial risk to house so many of them together, but the alternative wasn't something he wished to dwell upon. He found himself standing at the end of the hall, gazing out the picture window while the early morning rays kissed the snow covered mountaintops. Draco wished Hermione would venture from their chamber. He wished he could share with her this magical beauty of nature, but he'd been making wishes such as that every morning for the past month.

Draco thought things would be the same as they were. He thought he'd have the comfort and presence of his wife and they'd bask in the joy and terror of impending parenthood. He didn't count on the trauma. He didn't count on the night terrors. He didn't count on much of anything, which made him feel exceedingly selfish. He was Draco Malfoy. He's supposed to be selfish and arrogant and narcissistic and incorrigible. It was out of character for him to feel guilt. Draco wanted to understand his wife, at least, he thought he did, but he felt as if he were losing her.

"Draco, dear." Molly Weasley gently prodded him, as she did nearly every morning, "Talk to her. Let her talk to you. Bring her a spot of tea, would you?" Molly was one of the few who actually embraced their surroundings. She thrived under the conditions. She was simply born to care for others.

"She won't speak with me, about any of it. Sure, a few snippets in the beginning, but now? Nothing." Draco shrugged, watching the pastel yellows turn into golds and orange.

"Then you speak with her. It's not as if she's willing to leave the room to stop you." Molly winked, squeezing his arm before bustling off the kitchen to prepare breakfast. No matter how many times Declan reminded Molly he had house elves, she still prepared the meals.

Draco contemplated Molly's words, his mind swirling in circles. When the sun gently rose over the highest mountain peak, he had made his decision. Molly was right. Hermione refused to leave their chamber, what did he have to lose? Slowly, he climbed the wide spiral staircase, hidden in an alcove, to reach their private chamber.

"Love? Are you awake?" Draco stood next to the four poster bed, watching the curly headed brunette scrunch her eyes shut, ignoring him. He was used to this routine as well. Draco knew she awoke the moment he left their bed. Even though she wouldn't let him touch her while she was awake, it comforted her to know he was there, when she was sleeping.

Every morning when the sun began its ascent he would return and ask her if she was awake and Hermione would ignore him. Normally he climbed back into their bed, moulding himself around her back, daring her to betray herself. Secretly, Hermione lived for those moments. She reveled in the feel of him pressed against her, his face nuzzling her hair, even his hand which always tentatively laid on her waist.

However, this morning was different. Draco climbed into the bed beside his wife, watching her back stiffen and smirking. With trembling fingers he reached for her, brushing against her shoulder, turning her slowly onto her back. Using his wand he stoked the fire, flames rushing to life, before he lowered the coverlet. Draco folded it down her stomach round with child, folding it across her thighs. He pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed. Carefully he laid his head upon the pillow, his hand finding its way to the place his child slept. Draco flipped onto his side, drawing circles across the taut skin, watching Hermione's brows furrow in concentration.

"Alright then," Draco began shakily. He didn't have a bloody idea what he was doing, but Molly was right. He needed to talk. Instead of attempting to speak with Hermione, he chose their child. At the very least, their child couldn't burrow under the covers or stick their fingers in their ears or worse yet, simply cry. Draco carefully raised the bottom of Hermione's shirt so her stomach was exposed, his lips inches from her pale skin.

"I've never done this before, so bare with me. Did you know your mummy is the brightest witch of her age? I can't tell you how much that drove me a bit mad. I was always just a touch behind, always good but not quite good enough. It's alright now, of course. If I had to lose to anyone, I'm glad it was your mummy. Though I must say, she always had terrible hair in those days. Merlin, I hope you inherit my hair...and my teeth for that matter…

'I remember the first time I spotted your mummy. We were going to Hogwarts for the first time. You'll be going there as well. She was running down the corridors of The Hogwarts Express like a bloody loon, terrorizing people about the whereabouts of a toad. Can you imagine? All that fuss over a toad? She shoved past me when I didn't answer her. How could I answer her really? I'd never seen eyes like hers before. Sure, most people would simply say they're brown, but they're not. Alright they are brown but, they're warm like honey with these flecks of yellow, gold and even a bit of green in them, and so extraordinarily expressive. I hope you'll have her eyes.

'Your mummy was absolutely wicked to me in school. Don't let her tell you otherwise, but, I'll let you in on a bit of a secret..." Draco leaned closer, his lips grazing her skin, his palms flat below her navel. "I was a bit of a git in those days. I said terrible things to her. I'm not going to tell you either. Terrible things. I wasn't a good person in those days, but I like to think I've done alright now.

'I really hated her friends. Scarface and Weaselbee. Those aren't their real names obviously but I'm not about to spout them. I don't believe your mummy would appreciate vomit all over her...and you for that matter. They weren't bad people, except the Weasel. He made your mummy cry a bit. He was a ...well; your mummy says we shouldn't say unkind things about the dead. I suppose she's right.

'I'm your father. I'll never tell you to call me father. My father demanded it. It's a very cold sort of title now isn't it? You could call me dad. I'd like that. Hello. I'm your dad." Draco Malfoy smiled, enjoying the way the strange conversation rolled off his lips. He rubbed her stomach and jumped as it moved.

"What was that? Was that you? Are you moving about? Well, isn't that bloody interesting? I can't wait to meet you. I'm hoping your mummy will be speaking to me by then. I suppose it would be quite difficult to raise a child without words, though, I suppose mutes do it, don't they? Hmmm." His cheek rested against her and he found himself laughing when there was a decided thump under his cheek.

"The baby likes your voice." Hermione's soft voice floated through the early morning air and Draco held his breath.

He didn't want to ruin the moment by leaping about in a fit of joy. He fought down the shiver on his spine when her petite fingers ran through strands of his hair. He could feel it falling back to his head and he never wished the moment to end. Instead of looking into the eyes which made him complete, he spoke to his child.

"Your mummy punched me once. Alright maybe it was a slap but either way, she's violent, so, don't make her angry. My father was a bit violent too. I don't suppose I should tell you things like this, but you're a really good listener child with no name. If I was naughty, well, I think you're too young for that really, let's just say, it was quite painful. "

"Lucius? He..." Draco started at the sound of her voice. He rolled over further, raising his head, to meet the golden brown eyes he loved.

"You don't want to know, Granger." He loved the way she bit the corner of her lip when she was nervous.

"Tell me?" Hermione's hand hovered in the air, almost as if she were afraid to touch him. Draco leaned into her palm, expelling a sigh of contentment at her very touch. He tossed the pillow next to her head, shifting his body up the bed. He didn't want her to see his face, not if he were going to tell her about his childhood. He kissed her palm, frowning but knew he would succumb to her request.

"Roll over." Draco closed his eyes, feeling her weight shift beside him as she situated herself. He snaked an arm around her, the other underneath her head, while he lost himself in her soft curls. He couldn't nor did he want to stop himself from kissing the side of her neck. Hermione stiffened as he knew she would, but he needed her.

"As grateful as I am to my father for helping you get back to me, I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for my childhood..." Draco began slowly.

Hermione was lulled by the voice of her husband. She was having great difficulty adjusting to life in the Chateau. There was too much commotion, too many people; she was suffocating under the unwanted attention. Everyone kept asking her if she was ok, how she was doing, if she needed anything as if she were an invalid. Hermione was most definitely not an invalid. Terrified? Absolutely, yet nothing resembling an invalid.

Some nights when Draco was dead to the world, she ventured from their chamber to the kitchen downstairs. She enjoyed the silence. She would make herself a spot of tea; sit at one of the many tables strewn throughout the room.

It had become a habit for Daphne to join her. In the beginning it had felt a bit uncomfortable to sit in silence with the new mother. Daphne had watched Hermione. She watched her hands shake, the slight tremble to her lips, the protective position of her arms always wrapped about her abdomen. As if she could keep her child safe by that simple action.

A few days before, Daphne broke the silence with a simple declaration, which caused Hermione to break her silence with Draco.

_"You can't hide from him forever. He loves you. He's miserable. I never would have thought the courageous Gryffindor Princess would bring the Slytherin Prince to his knees. I thought you bloody Gryffindors were chalk full of bravery and courage and all those other horrid qualities. You're the coward, not him." Daphne had sneered then, slamming her mug onto the table. Hermione felt a familiar fire building within her. She gasped, recognising her ire.  
__  
__"How. Dare. You." Hermione had drawn her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown. She waved it in Daphne's general direction, her lips pressed tightly in fury. Daphne arched a singular eyebrow in derision.  
__  
__"How dare I? How dare you. You haven't considered him once. You're so busy wallowing in your own misery. So what? Harry bloody Potter snatched you like the last piece of cake. Big. Fucking. Deal.  
__  
__'When you're raised by Death Eater parents, come talk to us. When your first pleasant childhood memory is being grateful your parents tortured your house elf instead of you, then maybe you'll bloody understand, you selfish, self centered bitch. When you've spent ages locked in a closet or the dungeon and haven't eaten in so long you've forgotten the taste of bloody toast...when you have to be healed simply because you spilled your glass of juice...when your back is covered in so many scars you memorized concealment charms before you ever started Hogwarts. When your parents and your parents friends, pass you around..." Daphne sobbed then, her hands instantly covering her sobbing mouth.  
__  
__"Daph, that's enough." Declan stepped out of the shadows. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to shout a bit, but the pain on Daphne's face and the horror in Hermione's stopped him. He embraced the new mother lightly, rubbing her back as she sobbed.  
__  
__"She's so bloody stubborn, Dec. She doesn't bloody know everything. She doesn't know anything about us, anything at all. I don't wish to watch her torture him anymore. I want to go home." Daphne clung to Declan, her hands clenching his robes in her fists. _

_He felt her knees buckling against him as he led her to a dining chair. Declan allowed to his gaze to settle on Hermione, who was still frozen beside a table. She had lowered her wand, watching the scene unfold before her.  
__  
__"You're right." Daphne's head snapped up at Hermione's whispered words. _

_She watched the pregnant witch slide to the floor, her hands covering her distraught face. The realization of Hermione's selfishness caused her to weep uncontrollably. She had been so consumed with her own pain; she had never given a thought to his. Finally she released the pent up rage, yet also angst and guilt which had kept carefully contained since her rescue. Hermione didn't know how long she wept on the cold floor, but when she finally raised her head with determination, she was alone._

"Why?" Hermione couldn't resist twirling his locks around her fingers, through them. She allowed herself to embrace the longing. She traced the furrow on his brows, attempting to erase Draco's confused frown.

"Why what?" Draco had been in the middle of a monologue describing one of his many childhood punishments when she had interrupted him.

"If Lucius hated you so very much to do all those terrible things to you, for the sake of 'making you a stronger and better pureblood wizard', which is completely bloody nonsense in my opinion, why did he rescue me? A filthy, dirty, disgusting Mudblood, carrying your half-blood child? Shouldn't I be the epitome of exactly which he detests?" Hermione took a deep breath, pushing the anxiety back to its depths.

It was the longest she had spoken in weeks. To her surprise, Draco sat up then, tugging her up with him, as his arm was still behind her head while they reclined. Tenderly, he cupped her face in his large hands, his forehead resting on hers, his grey eyes hidden behind long lashes.

"I don't ever wish to hear you speak about yourself or our child in such a way ever again." Hermione could hear the pain and the underlying fury in his hissed words. She felt the familiar flutter in her chest, allowing her hands to cover his. He sucked in a breath between his teeth from her contact, his eyes remaining closed.

"Doesn't answer my question, Malfoy." She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel his lips against her cheeks, her lips, her throat, yet she resisted the urge. Hermione wondered if he could feel her quickened pulse, her ragged breaths when he released her, his hands dropping to her shoulders.

"He loves my mother." Draco said simply. "He may be completely incapable of loving me," he scoffed in resentment, "Lucius would never do anything to truly hurt my mother."

"But..." Draco covered Hermione's lips with a finger.

"My mother doesn't know the half of my 'punishments'. She caught him once. It was in the summer, before I went to Hogwarts, a few days after I received my letter, in fact. Lucius was ranting about Harry Potter of all things. How I should befriend the git, how he would be a perfect addition to our world, regardless of his blood status. I made some flippant remark, can't remember it exactly, but it was something about Potter winding up in Hufflepuff.

'I was a child; I thought it was an amusing thought, but my father? He was absolutely bloody furious. It was the first time I was ever hit with an Unforgivable. I didn't really know what pain was before that day. It wasn't the last time, but the first which left a lasting impression.

'My mother walked in while I was writhing on the floor having long since lost my voice. I could feel the hatred flowing off him. It was the first time I knew my father truly hated me. My mother hexed him then. I remember seeing him crash into her curio cabinet. Everything was blurry and a bit hazy but I held onto that moment.

'The one defining moment in my life. My mother would go to the ends of the earth for me and my father would bury me if offered the chance. And if my father wished to keep himself in one piece, he'd go to the ends of the earth to keep her happy." Draco shook his head, as if trying to remove the memory. He didn't want to see the pity in his wife's eyes. He had never told anyone what had transpired that day, until now. It really was the only explanation he had for his father's actions.

He allowed his hand to fall from her shoulder when she shifted. He was used to Hermione rejecting his casual caresses. It still hurt him, to the very core of his soul, but he'd long since learned to hide such expressions of emotion. His eyes flew open to find her cold fingers running along the side of his face before her soft lips pressed against his.

Draco wanted to grasp her to him in a bone crushing embrace; instead he returned her tentative kiss. He reclined upon the soft pillows, dragging her down across his chest. He held her head in place, with a hand firmly held against the back of her head. He spread kisses across her cheeks and the tip of her nose before returning to her waiting lips. He groaned when her teeth caught his bottom lip, biting it lightly. Draco plunged into her mouth, unable to resist her any longer. He reveled in her taste, her breasts pressed against him, her thigh casually across his own.

Deciding to risk her wrath, his hand snaked under her night shirt, a sigh filled with want escaping his engaged lips upon feeling her breast in his hand. Draco felt a moment of elation when she did not pull away, instead groaning into his mouth. A droplet of water fell onto the side of his nose, while his mouth was suckling the side of her neck. Instantly he broke away, pulling her face away from his, searching her golden brown eyes for the pity and regret he wished were not there.

"What? What is it?" It pained Draco to speak.

His stomach clenched in worry. He didn't know if he could bear it if Hermione was simply trying to comfort him or something equally pitying. Hermione brushed the tears from her cheeks as if they were a personal affront.

"I missed you." Her voice broke while he absorbed her words. Draco felt her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I've spent all this…this fucking TIME, just being bloody miserable and reliving every fucking moment instead of thinking of you and how bloody difficult it must have been for you." Draco's eyebrows raised in shock.

Hermione was always the witch insinuating profane language was beneath her and yet it was flowing easily from her bruised lips. He didn't wish to upset her and watch her retreat into the practically catatonic uncommunicative wanker he'd tolerated since her rescue.

"Language." It was silly and perhaps a bit condescending but it was the only thing Draco Malfoy could think of saying to diffuse a potentially volatile situation.

He tucked a few wayward curls behind her ear with a small smirk. His heart ached with want, laced with guilt. He still harbored a certain level of animosity for himself. He hadn't had enough faith in her and it was killing him, would kill him, if she didn't forgive him. Draco found his mouth opening to beg her, plead for forgiveness but to his amazement, Hermione began to laugh.

"Granger," he began in his best Hermione impersonation, "it's most unbecoming for any witch or wizard to use such profane language; frankly I'm surprised you would lower yourself to such crass standards." He arched his eyebrow before sniffing with implied disdain. Draco found himself smiling while Hermione's raucous peals of laughter filled their bedchamber.

"Finally." George Weasley said that which they were all thinking, as Hermione's laughter reverberated throughout the Chateau.

Fred and Luna snickered, each bouncing a pale red headed child, while Lucius and Narcissa lurked in the shadows. Molly and Arthur whispered near the hearth while the fire blazed. Daphne napped against her husband's shoulder while their newborn daughter slept on Blaise's chest. Bill, Fleur and their two children were occupying themselves in the make-shift playroom. Declan and Theo stood outside in the light snow downing firewhiskey, completely restless and irritated.

A head full of long blazing red hair rushed past all of them, her wand brandished, Neville Longbottom hurrying behind his wife.

"Longbottom, you really should stop her..." George shrugged nonchalantly. Neville gasped, plopping himself into the armchair across from George. His eyes widened as the obvious sounds of lovemaking overshadowed his attempts to regain his breath.

"She..." Neville gasped, "she thinks there's...an intruder. You go stop her." George appraised his baby sister's husband. He definitely wasn't the chubby, stuttering ponce he'd come to know.

Neville towered over his petite wife, his dark hair, flopping carelessly across one bright eye. The Second Wizarding War had changed Neville Longbottom as it had changed them all.

"No sir. Your wife. Though, Malfoy should know to cast a bloody Silencing Charm. Ridiculous that we should be subjected to their mating calls. I'm sure none of you bleedin' care a bit, what with all the COITUS I find myself surrounded but for MERLIN'S BLOODY SAKE..." George took a shuddered breath, though whether it was filled with anger or jealousy, no one could truly to certain, "CAST. BETTER. CHARMS!" George kicked over his chair, storming angrily from the makeshift living space, slamming doors along his way to some solace.

"Well, that was uncalled for." Narcissa Malfoy sniffed with disdain, looking down upon George's outburst. She paused for a moment, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her head tilted.

"Though," She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "He has a point." A slight pink flush decorated Narcissa's cheeks before she took her leave. Lucius coughed, trying to drown out the murmurs, moans, groans and even hisses floating down the staircase leading to Draco and Hermione's bedchamber.

"I think I'll just...er excuse me." With a shudder bordering on revulsion, Lucius threw open French doors leading to the exterior and snatched the bottle of firewhiskey from Theo's hands, taking a long drought.

Fred and Luna headed toward the nursery to put their twins down for a much needed nap, reminding each other with whispers and snickers to cast Silencing Charms around the cribs.

The blood curdling scream of Ginevra Weasley Longbottom, startled Daphne from her nap, which frightened her daughter, which made Blaise absolutely furious. Daphne snatched her daughter from his chest, instantly cradling her with wide eyes searching for the danger which lurched. Blaise Zabini's face reddened, a tick in his jaw jumping, his eyes squeezed shut while he attempted to calm his personal storm.

Neville did not envy his wife. While he knew she had a temper to be reckoned with, Blaise Zabini was another matter. He tried to wave her away, to warn her, but Ginny had always been a stubborn sort. She rolled her eyes, stomping down the staircase toward him.

"Oi! CAN YOU..." Ginny shouted, still stalking across the deep maroon area rug toward her husband, when she was interrupted by a resounding slap, forcing her head to the side and a slight stumble.

"You are an obnoxious witch. I'd blame it on your Weasley genes but I wouldn't want to insult your mother. Your daughter is crying. Attend her you nosy bint." Daphne patted her daughter's bottom while glowering at Ginny.

"WELL, I.." Ginny stamped her foot, her face red with rage.

"Silencio."

"Longbottom, you're alright." Blaise snickered, watching his wife's hips sway out of the room.

Neville sighed. He loved his wife, desperately, but sometimes he wished she was mute. She had a tendency to bellow, regardless of her surroundings. She was tiring. He knew they'd never last if she didn't take others into consideration.

"I love her, but..." Blaise took a seat beside Neville and waited in the silence before taking things into his own hands.

"She's abrasive, stubborn, loud, bossy, stubborn, a Weasley.."

"Oi! That's my wife!" Blaise chuckled, noticing Neville didn't refute the claims.

"Yea, but mate, your wife is a bitch. Perhaps she's a bit different behind closed doors. I'd love to pretend she was, but honestly? She's not. You forget Silencing Charms as much as anyone. She's definitely wearing the pants in your relationship. Man up, Longbottom. You killed Voldy's snake you can conquer a ginger." Blaise slapped Neville on the back, leaving in search of his wife.

* * *

"I can't believe you forgot to cast a Silencing Charm." Hermione's cheeks were a delightful shade of pink while she covered her face with a pillow.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, wife. It isn't as if we've never heard the bloody Longbottoms. She's a tyrant." Draco felt the ever present pain in his chest dissipate as he held his wife.

"Merlin, its horrid isn't it? Harder, faster, not like that Neville. Right there, left, left, left, use your tongue! Why must she shout?"

"Granger, the imagery is making me ill. Please, never do that again." He kissed her bare shoulder, still in a bit of awe that he was wrapped around her.

"Does that mean I can get up now?" Hermione pressed into his chest, embracing her body's response to him.

"Not at all, give me a minute." Draco began tugging the cool white sheet from her naked form, snickering as she clutched it tightly.

"Malfoy, the baby's hungry."

"Granger, that's not going to work on me, I've read all those bloody books. The baby is the size of a potato. It's not hungry. I'm hungry."

Draco rolled Hermione onto her back, despite her meager protests. She kept the pillow firmly lodged over her face, which served his intentions just fine. He started slowly, small kisses on her neck, her collarbone, the side of her breast. He couldn't help but smirk when she gasped lightly.

He knelt between her legs, his hands soon following his lips over the mound of her stomach. He willed their child to remain silent for the sake of this tender moment. Draco had missed her terribly, more than even he was willing to admit and seeing her bare before him, made him whole.

Hermione knew he was paying a certain homage to her and her blood warmed considerably at his show of affection. She shrieked when he tugged on her ankles, dragging her to the foot of their bed. She shivered upon feeling moist lips and cool fingers behind her knee.

"I missed you." He breathed against the goosefleshed skin, his fingers rubbing circles on her stomach.

Hermione's bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she wished only to press her thighs together for the slightest relief, but Draco was filled with determination. She moaned into the pillow when she felt a knuckle lightly graze her blush nether lips.

Draco tore the pillow from her clutches, intent upon hearing every breath, every moan and every groan. He'd gone too long to be further denied. He closed his eyes and reveled in the feel of her.

"Dr..Draco." He held her hips firmly in place, even as her back arched off the bed.

She was aware of a humming in her ears, a ringing perhaps, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the sensations he was reawakening in her. The fiery burn, the tension in her muscles, the hardened peaks begging for attention, consumed her. Hermione was vaguely aware of a slight commotion, just on the other side of their bedroom door, but she couldn't focus on such things.

"Uhm…Granger."

"No. Shut up, don't stop!" Draco chuckled, yet who was he to deny her insistent demands?

It was obvious Blaise, Fred and perhaps even Declan and Theo were having a bit of fun outside their door, but Hermione's keening was almost drowning them out completely. The moment her knees began to quiver and she shuddered beneath him; he used her thighs for leverage to stand. Draco didn't give her a second to recover before she was filled with him.

"I can't…I can't…" Hermione's head thrashed on the white sheets; her hair tangling beneath her in a sweaty coil of curls.

"Yes you can Granger!"

"Oh Malfoy harder!"

"Give it to me baby!"

"Punish me ferret!"

The cacophony of voices shouting through the door almost ruined the moment. Hermione's eyes flew open in shock and embarrassment and Draco knew if she had the strength she would push him away. He gripped her hips, keeping her wedged against him as the familiar tingling coiled in his abdomen. His knees began to shake with exertion and with a few more erratic thrusts, Hermione was clenched around him and he couldn't help but follow her.

"Do you think they're done?" Blaise jabbed Declan in the ribs, wiggling his eyebrows.

"They must be, it's finally fucking quiet." Declan grumbled, giving the closed door a kick.

"Maybe they finally found their wands?" Theo crossed his arms, leaning on the rough stone wall, as if it were an everyday occurrence to listen to others shag.

"Oi, Weasley…er Fred, I can't believe you called him a ferret." Blaise chuckled, clapping his hand over his mouth.

"What? It's not as if he can say he's never been one, now can he? We better go, I hear mum and she sounds angry."


	11. The Devil's Been Busy

Chapter 11 - The Devil's Been Busy

* * *

Harry Potter thrust into the witch beneath him while gripping her brown curls, forcing her to stare into his madness. She knew better than to cry. She'd learned that the very first time he took her. She didn't know whose idea it was to offer her to Pottermort, but she knew, one day she'd find them and skin them alive. She knew Yaxley had a hand in it, that bastard had a hand in everything these days, but getting to him was impossible.

She counted the cracks in the ceiling while making the appropriate sounds to appease him. She was thankful he wasn't wasting his time trying to please her. She'd barely managed to keep her supper down the first time he had attempted it. She felt him shudder and mentally thanked her stars it was over as quickly as it was. She cringed when he waved his wand over her naked form, instantly cleaning her and knew it was going to be a long night.

"Today was a good day, love. You know I can't resist you. I know I was a bit randy tonight, but I'll make it up to you. I want to hear you scream my name. I forgive you for fucking Malfoy. You didn't have a choice." Harry crooned, his calloused hands massaging the blushed flesh of the witch beside him. He loved the indentation at her waist, the gentle slope of her abdomen and her high firm breasts. He knew she'd love him eventually.

"You forgot the charm, Harry." Her voice was low and soft, just the way he preferred it. She sighed heavily, her eyes closing.

"No, love, I didn't. It's time to try again. I remember how heartbroken you were over the last child. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want to bury myself in you and feel my child grow within you." Harry purred and it terrified her. She noticed whenever he talked to her, the red of his eyes lessened. It almost gave her hope, until he started touching her again.

"Harry, I'm not ready." Her knees trembled with the very thought of being forced to carry Harry Potter's spawn.

"Mione, you shouldn't tell me no. It makes me angry. I don't like to be angry, not with you." Harry's fingertip stroked her inner thigh, shoving her legs apart. "Don't make me bind you." She swallowed loudly with tears in her eyes.

"I'm simply concerned. You know I can't function properly without referring to my books." She forced a breathy quality to her voice, willing her body to respond as his mouth descended on her breast. She moaned, just the way she was taught.

Harry climbed on top of her then, licking and biting his way down her unresponsive form. As hard as she tried, she couldn't force her body to enjoy the ministrations of the world's most hated wizard. She grit her teeth when his nose pressed against the apex of her thighs.

"What's wrong love? You enjoyed it quite a bit yesterday." He inhaled deeply, inspecting her dryness.

*_That cunt_.* She thought to herself, inwardly cursing Tracey Davis. It was her bloody turn to play Hermione Granger yesterday. The dirty bint apparently gave quite a performance. There wasn't a chance in hell she could live up to it.

"Sorry Harry, I'm just a bit nervous." Harry chuckled sinking her face between her thighs once more.

She didn't stand a chance. Her body had ideas of its own and it didn't seem to mind the tentative warm tongue teasing her folds. She hated herself with a fiery passion as a sensual moan filled Harry's bedchamber.

"That's such a goood girl." He pinched her rose peaks, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger while his tongue aggressively teased her bundle of nerves. She instantly loathed herself more than she thought possible as her body betrayed her and exploded beneath his amateur ministrations.

It was in that moment, she began to plan her escape.

Later, when she was in her cell, she healed her abrasions with her wand. She was thankful she was allowed to keep it. She wasn't a prisoner, not really, but it was frowned upon for her to leave the deep recesses of the dungeon. She knew they were beneath Malfoy Manor and she wished more than anything she could Apparate into the home.

"Tracey?" She grabbed the wrist of the brunette witch and dragged her into the darkened room.

"What are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?" Tracey Davis hissed, shoving the woman from her.

"I'm getting out of here and you're going to help me."

* * *

George Weasley wandered through the snow capped forest in search of solitude. He was used to the constant bustle of family from The Burrow, yet somehow, this time was different. He was alone and while he knew this wasn't the opportune time to be wistful for a partner, he was unable to help himself. It wasn't as if he'd had a long lasting relationship, he hadn't. It wasn't as though he had a secret love he was forced to leave behind, he didn't. It was the constant snogging and shagging and choruses of crying tots which was his undoing. It solidified his loneliness to the point where it was unbearable.

He missed his shop. He wondered for a moment if he could manage to slip away. He just wanted to see if it was still standing. He was sure it was, but working in the shop was the highlight of his life. He chose to disregard the glaring fact he and Fred wouldn't have the shop if it weren't for Harry Potter. George didn't know exactly what had happened to the poor bloke, but he didn't want to find out.

The Ministry was cowering in fear. They didn't want to stand against famous Harry Potter. He was the wizard who brought Voldemort to his knees. Of course, he was also the wizard who kidnapped Hermione Malfoy and Declan Rosier. He never expected Hermione to fall for Draco Malfoy's wiles, but it didn't bother him. He was glad she was happy. She would finally be able to put it all behind her. George was ever so hopeful she'd hit the books and discover the rare bit of magic which would free Harry from the horrific Dark Magic embedded within him.  
Making a split decision George Weasley Apparated away from The Chateau, feeling free.

George glamoured his telltale red hair, making himself a nondescript brunette. Diagon Alley was conspicuously empty. It reminded him of the days during the war. A scant few witches and wizards hurried into the businesses with their heads down. It was obvious they were afraid. It wasn't the hustling, bustling place he remembered. It was dark and empty, just like his heart.

He stood beside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, cupping his hand on the darkened glass to sneak a peek inside.

"They're gone, just like everyone else with half a brain." George gasped. A short, chubby sort of witch clucked her tongue behind him, shaking her head. He stared at the half moon spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. He felt slightly uneasy, unable to place the familiarity of it all.

"What happened?"

"Where have you been then? Harry bleedin' Potter happened, that's what. He's gone completely barmy." She huffed angrily, waving her cane in his general direction. He winced when it struck his shin.

"I hadn't realised it had gotten that bad. It wasn't the last time I was here." George shrugged, it was obvious she was the only witch willing to divulge a bit of information.

"Ach yea, must of been some months then. Harry Potter swooped down here, ranting and raving like a lunatic. He nearly burned Knockturn Alley to the ground. He swore Hermione Granger was hiding there of all places. Can you imagine? He found her of course. He flaunts her about a bit as if she's a trophy. She looks a fright, but there isn't anyone who can do a thing about it. Now, you tell me, who on earth is going to stand against Harry Potter? If it wasn't for him, Voldemort would still be terrorizing us."

"He's not much better though is he?" George scrubbed the scruff on his face with his palm and a sigh.

"He's fine as long as he has her. He's not looking for more power. He's not killing...well anyone, really. The Ministry has half a mind to leave him be. I feel bad for the poor girl; she did help him in the war, but..."

"But what then? It's alright for Harry Potter to terrorise one witch instead of the entirety of wizarding kind? That's what you're saying now isn't it?" He growled, suddenly angry with the witch. She reached up, yanking him by the ear to drag his face close to hers.

"George Weasley I'm surprised at you. Listen, it's a curse. We haven't the means to get close to him. He destroyed most of the Dark Arts books he's come across..."

"How did you know..."

"Don't interrupt, child. It's Yaxley. Yaxley cast the curse and Potter protects him. We had a spy, but he slipped away with Ms. Granger. I can't tarry here long. We know he doesn't have her. His Death Eaters or whatever madness he's named them have glamoured and polyjuiced a handful of witches in order to distract him from reality. It's worked thus far. Inform Bill and Ms Granger, we're working on our end. Friday evening. Potterwatch. Lemon drops." George's mouth hung agape as the cranky witch skirted around the corner of the building, glanced over her shoulder and transfigured into a cat he recognised well.

"McGonagall, well I'll be dammed." The cat hissed, which George would have considered a warning if it wasn't so completely comical. He decided it was in his best interest to get off the empty street and slipped inside his building.

He grumbled at the thick film of dust covering the products lining his shelves. George had half a mind to gather as much as possible in his arms and bring them to the Chateau. At the very least, it might help with his boredom. He was so engrossed during his inspection of his prize shop he didn't see the filthy, thin witch cowering in the corner. He barely heard her whimpers when he stumbled past her, tripping over a new shipment of Ton-Tongue Toffee. It was her gasp that drew his attention.

"Please, no more." George crouched beside her, unable to discern who she was from the state of her.

"It's alright little witch. I won't hurt you."

"H-he said that too..." She sniffled loudly, unwilling to raise her eyes from the intriguing cobwebs in the corner.

"How'd you get in here?" He brushed her seemingly dark brown, matted hair off her face even as she flinched.

"Don't hurt me, it was unlocked, I swear it." She trembled, curling in on herself in the darkness of the shop.

"Alright little witch, what's your name? I'd gather it's not safe to remain here. I'll have to bring you with me."

"No! You can't! He'll find me." George took in her bloodied hands, seeing her nail beds were bitten to the quick. He was unable to recognise her, though he wondered what she was going on about.

"Who, little witch?"

"Potter." She breathed, her knees knocking together loudly in the quiet.

"How long have you been out here?" He whispered, keeping a safe distance between them in order to quell her terror.

"I-I don't know? Days and days, but they're…they're all the same."

George chuckled, impatiently grasping the wisp of a witch into his arms, even as she struggled. He ignored her pleadings, carrying her into the backroom.

"Have a bath. You're filthy. I'll see if I can rustle up something for you to wear. I'm sure my sister's left something. I'll find us a bite to eat and we'll take it from there. I'm not going to harm you, little witch." George left the tiny room without waiting for a reply.

He wandered down the streets of Diagon Alley until venturing into the Leaky Cauldron. They didn't have the best fare, but it was hot and filling, which is exactly what his little witch needed. He avoided bumping into the few patrons maneuvering to their rickety corner tables. Tom the bartender gave him a bit of stink eye as he placed an order, but it didn't bother him none. George cautiously carried the paper sack back to his shop, hoping the little witch had finished her toilet.

He hadn't expected to hear muffled sobs through the battered loo walls. He wasn't exactly experienced with upset witches. His sister was an angry sort, not a crying sort. George shrugged and deciding to give her a bit more privacy went upstairs to the flat he and Fred used to share. It was just as he remembered it albeit quite a bit dirtier.

He ignored the pile of dishes in the basin and headed directly toward his wardrobe. He snatched a long black stretchy dress and rolled his eyes. He vaguely remembered Ginny tossing it on his narrow bed cursing Muggle maxi-dresses, whatever _that_ meant. He hoped it would fit the little witch as it was the only appropriate thing available, unless she wished to wear one of his jumpers.

"Little witch?" George called quietly, listening for the sounds of her distress.

"Don't look at me! I can't get it off. It's not my face. It's not my face. Why can't I get it off?" George skirted around the corner, frowning.

The little witch was on the floor of the loo, wrapped in a clean, yet tatty towel on her hands and knees. Her hair was dark, almost black and covered most of her face, even as it swung.

"What's wrong with your face then?" She groaned and George felt a bit of guilt for the twitch of his cock in his trousers. The tatty towel barely covered the essentials and while he knew now wasn't the time for lust filled thoughts, he couldn't help himself.

"It's not mine, not really. They said it would alter me, but I didn't think...I mean...my eyes aren't even my eyes, not anymore. They're not hers either, though. I suppose that's something. My hair is so long, I don't hate it, but...I thought when it wore off I'd look like me. Do I look horrid then?" The little witch scrambled to her knees, dropping the damp towel to the floor. She inspected every inch of her bare body.

George was hard pressed to keep his eyes on her face. He studied the murky hazel eyes, the fall of her straight dark bangs and the slight wave of her tresses falling down past her shoulders.

"Whose is it then?" He gulped, feeling beads of sweat across his brow.

"I feel loads better after the shower, thank you for that. The body is mine, thank Merlin. I don't know what I would have done otherwise. I think the heat of the water helped the Charm to fade. I would have used my wand, but I'm terrified they're tracking it. That would be horrid. I don't want to go back, I can't go back." She turned on her heel, her towel long forgotten and faced him with a slight frown.

"Wh-what's your name, little witch?" George was suddenly quite interested in the cracks in the ceiling, avoiding her.

"P-Pa...Penelope. Call me Penny" The little witch decided in that moment to reinvent herself.

This wizard didn't know who she was; hell she didn't know who she was anymore. She didn't recognise herself, not really. There were a few attributes she was thankful remained unequivocally hers, but for an outsider? They wouldn't have any idea and she wished to keep it that way.

"I don't recognise the name, little witch."

"Who are you then?" She stalked toward him with a sway to her hips.

She had no qualms with her nudity. It was impossible after the weeks spent at the mercy of Harry Potter. She felt powerful for some strange reason. It was empowering to be some semblance of herself. She wondered if this wizard would be willing to aid her. She'd been hiding for so long the days ran into each other. She didn't know how long she had been free, but still she was unable to remove the glamour which forced her to look like Hermione Granger. She needed to get out of Diagon Alley and he was her best bet.

"George. I'm uh George. This is my shop you see and well..."

"George Weasley?!" She flung herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. George stood stock still, unable to force himself to embrace her in her current state. "You're an escapee. At least, that's what Potter calls your lot. Please, please get me out of here. I'll do anything."

"Th-that...won't be necessary." George tried to extricate himself from the naked witch moulded against him, but her arms held fast.

She fisted his lapel, pressing her breasts into his chest, her warm breath exhaling into his ear. He bit his lip, his hands finally on her shoulders. Apparently they had a mind of their own the moment they came into contact with her soft, lightly tanned skin. He stroked the arch of her back, inhaling deeply until he willed himself to stop.

The little witch called Penny had a habit of using sex to get her way and while she didn't want to have relations with the older Weasley, she wasn't against using her body to set herself free. She figured she'd been forced to be Potter's love slave, at least this time it would be on her terms.

"It's alright to touch. I won't mind." George felt her lush lips form a smile against his cheek.

She unwound one of her arms, covering his hand with her own and pushed it down slowly until it grasped the curve of her bum. George was a bit of an arse man. There was only so much a man could take, even if the man happened to be a wizard. His other hand quickly stroked down the side of her body. Penny hummed at his grip and rocked against him. She knew the exact moans to entice a man to her bed.

"I-I can't...it wouldn't be right." George released her unceremoniously, refusing to look at her again.

He removed his cloak and wrapped her in it with a shaky sigh. Penny frowned with a bit of confusion. She'd never had to make a concerted effort before. George clamored up the stairs and she followed, curious.

"We should wait until nightfall to leave. I'm sure you're exhausted. I brought a bite to eat and then you should probably rest. There's a bed in the other room which should be suitable." George waved his wand, eradicating the dust on the lumpy sofa and opening the paper sack. He waved her over, gesturing toward the long dress. Penny shrugged, tossed his cloak on the sofa and shimmied into the dress.

George pulled out the warm cod sandwiches and chips, glancing at her quickly. The dress left little to the imagination. He supposed he should have transfigured her a pair of knickers, but he hadn't been overly concerned with such things. Her breasts were practically spilling out the top of the dress, while the material stretched tight across her voluptuous bum. He bit his knuckle and attacked his meal.

He considered sending a Patronus to Bill and decided against it. There was no way of knowing how safe it would be in these circumstances and part of him wished to keep the little witch a secret for just a bit longer. She sat so close to him their thighs touched while they ate in silence.

"You don't look like the George I remember."

"Remember me from where? Do I know you? Who are you? Don't think for one minute I believe your name is Penny." George crumpled the wax paper from his sandwich, shoving it into the paper sack and faced her.

"I don't wish to tell you. You wouldn't help me if you knew. I know you won't." George inspected her fully, his eyes narrowing. She seemed familiar to a certain extent, yet he couldn't place her.

"You remind me of someone..."

"It's probably _her_." Penny snarled, shoving away the remnants of her meal. "I didn't want to be her. I didn't have a choice. We were forced into it really. The other Followers, I suppose you'd call them Death Eaters, demanded a small group of us pretend to be the Mudblood Hermione Granger. It's the only thing that calms him. I've seen it. Doesn't make it less degrading of course, but I couldn't take it anymore. Pottermort wants to impregnate her and have his child. He isn't aware we're not her. I couldn't bear the thought of...I had to...you understand, don't you?" She didn't feign the tears which ran rivulets down her sunken cheeks.

"That's abominable." George awkwardly patted her back, unsure how to proceed.

"I know! Pottermort had some Potions Master improve upon Polyjuice and his Followers tested it on me and one other. I didn't know her name. She was young and pretty and she died. I didn't obviously but whenever it wore off, the less I managed to look like myself. I suppose that's not such a bad thing considering I've run. Perhaps he won't find me and then I won't have too..." Her breath caught in her throat, unable to continue.

"I'm sorry, really I am. If you...well, I don't want to make things more difficult for you, but I can't bring you with me if I don't know who you are. There are too many lives at stake. I'm sure you understand."

"Please! You have to bring me with you. I'll do anything. Anything, I swear it. Ask and I'll do it, I swear it. I'll make a wizard's oath. I'm begging you. I've never begged for anything." She was near hysteria, her raw fingertips clutching at his slacks as her knees hit the hardwood floor.

"Penelope, Penny, stop. I'll think of something." George removed her hands from his person carefully.

He ventured across the room and wet a small cloth near the sink basin. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking. George carefully tucked a finger under her chin, raising her up slightly as he wiped her face clean. He took her by the hand and led her down the short corridor toward one of the bedrooms.

"Th-thank you, George." The words stuck in her throat as she was hard pressed to remember if she'd ever thanked anyone for anything before the unfortunate circumstances which led her to the dark world of being Harry Potter's concubine.

"It's alright, little witch. Get some rest. I'm going to remove my glamour before I rest. If you wake before I do, my room is just next door and it would be best to remain upstairs. I do wish you'd tell me who you are, little witch." George covered her with a light quilt before quietly shutting the door.

George knew she would be trouble. He had learned long ago to stick with his gut feelings. She was beautiful to be sure, and while he was a known prankster, he was quite intelligent. He knew she was lying about her name. He wondered what the repercussions would be for leaving the Chateau and for bringing a stranger into their midst.

Tension was already high between Hermione and Malfoy's issues as well as the babies; he could just imagine his mother shouting at him a bit. He fell into his freshly cleaned bed with a sigh, falling asleep with visions of an angry Molly Weasley brandishing her wand while beating him about the head.

A few hours later, Penny awoke in the strange surroundings with a gasp, instantly searching for her wand. She stroked it gently and left it on the small bedside table. She hadn't been able to properly use her magic since the night Harry Potter procured Hermione Granger; the first time. She missed it, but not enough to risk her life to use it. She ventured out of the small bedroom toward George's room. Without knocking she opened the door and almost smiled at the sight of the tall redhead sleeping upon the bed sheets.

He hadn't disrobed a bit and it seemed he'd only tossed a small blanket over his torso, which was bunched around his waist. He groaned, rolling over onto his side, mumbling about his mother of all things. She perched on the edge of his bed and touched his arm. George's eyes flew open wide and before she could blink, she was flipped over his body onto her back. He pinned her hands over her head while breathing heavily through his flaring nose.

Penelope blinked, her breath lodged in her throat. George dropped his forehead to hers and drew a ragged breath. It didn't take much effort for her lips to touch his. She knew it was a risk, but it was the only card she held. She didn't know how to simply accept kindnesses without something being expected in return. She didn't have anything, not anymore, except her body. If she couldn't use her feminine wiles to procure her safety, she didn't know what she'd do.

He didn't kiss her back, not right away. George was frozen, vacillating between succumbing to the temptation and running screaming from the room. Finally, he settled for the crossroads. He kissed her, quickly and gently and retreated. George didn't leap from the bed; no instead he sat beside her with his knees bent. He casually laid his elbows on them and looked over at her.

"I'm sorry." Penny didn't understand why he was apologising. He had done nothing worth an apology and it confused her.

Men didn't turn her down. It was a completely foreign concept and yet George Weasley was not only saying no, he was regretful over a simple kiss. For reasons she didn't fully understand, Penny began to cry. The droplets dripped from the corner of her eye onto her cheek silently, until they gained in momentum and volume. She was sobbing great tears, her shoulders shaking, her limbs trembling and George simply pulled her into his arms.

Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he laid them back upon the bed and covered them with the rough blanket. Penny sniffled into his chest and he held her tighter. He stroked the dark hair lying across her back, hoping to calm her.

"It's alright little witch, let it out. I'll take care of you."


	12. Not Alone Anymore

**AN: So, I totally forgot what I was going to say...er uhm yeah. *kisses***

* * *

Chapter 12 - Not Alone Anymore

* * *

"Do you believe her?"  
"I don't know, but I trust George and he trusts her."  
"He's obviously being manipulated."  
"How exactly? It's not as if they're shagging and she's using her womanly wiles to convince him of anything."  
"She could be a spy."  
"Look at her. She's bloody terrified. If she's a spy she's the worst spy in the history of spies."

Declan and Theo continued their barb filled banter over tumblers of firewhisky and a crackling fire. They were on each other's last nerve. It was the inability to leave the Chateau which was really getting the best of them. They were quite resentful George managed to venture past the wards and Apparate to Diagon Alley of all places.

"Are they doing this to amuse themselves?"

"I think they're simply that bored." Hermione and Draco snickered on the veranda, peeking through the frosted glass doors.

"What do you think Harry's doing?"

"Granger, who bloody cares?" Draco stood behind her, rubbing circles on her stomach, smiling whenever their child thumped beneath his hands.

"I was just thinking, if Yaxley is so well protected because he cursed Harry then it's quite like he's a horcrux. I mean, not that Harry has split his soul or anything that drastic, I simply meant the level of protection."

"Yes, yes no one's seen hide nor hair of Yaxley since he snatched Declan, which quite frankly I don't wish to discuss." Draco grumbled unhappily, kissing her neck.

"We need to find a way to draw him out. I've done loads of research, spent hours in the library, don't laugh at me Malfoy. Without knowing exactly which curse Yaxley was attempting to curse Harry with, there's no way to know the exact ramifications. It could be something as simple as killing Yaxley will release Harry, or it could be that harming Yaxley will harm Harry which includes death."

"Honestly Granger, would Potter's death be the worst thing to happen at this point? He's committed unspeakable crimes against my wife. He's recruited the Death Eaters for no other reason than to abscond with my bloody wife. According to that Penelope woman, his Followers have altered Polyjuice to the point it's bloody detrimental and forced witches to be _you_ in order to keep him appeased. Voldy was psychotic but Potter is bloody obsessed."

"Malfoy! It's not his fault, not really. It's the curse and..."

"Granger, stop making excuses. If he had reported being struck with the curse, if he had spoken with Shacklebolt, if he had gone for treatment or any number of other scenarios instead of embracing whatever vileness has seeped into his soul, I'd agree with you. Potter didn't, which makes me think he's always had a bit of a dark side." Draco gasped upon feeling Hermione's stomach tighten under his hands. "Are you alright, love?"

"Hmm yeah, Molly said these sorts of things happened near the end." Hermione swayed lightly, breathing in the fresh mountain air.

"Near the end? The end? I've barely got you back, what do you mean the end?" It amused her to hear the panic in his voice.

"Malfoy, haven't you realised we've been secluded in this Chateau for months on end? I said near the end, not the end. Although, Molly said it would be perfectly safe to go at anytime." Hermione hid her small smile, pretending to scratch her upper lip.

"I don't know, Granger, it's all sort of run together. I can't tell the days apart any longer. I remember the ruckus when George returned with that bint. She was completely undernourished and Dec wanted to have his head. She's a bit bigger now, so yes, I suppose it's been awhile." Draco carefully led Hermione back inside, forcing her to sit upon one of the many sofas.

"I'm not going to explode."

"I'm not taking any chances." Hermione rolled her eyes, biting back the hiss of breath which threatened to escape while Draco twirled her curls around his finger.

"Bill and Fleur are leaving. They don't think they're in any danger and since Harry never ventured anywhere near Shell Cottage..."

"Blaise and Daphne have spoken about it as well. They want their daughter to grow up in their home. I still can't believe they named her Coraline. It's not the worst name I've ever heard but..."

"But what, Draco? The only name you've offered for our child is Scorpius, which is ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous it's a bloody constellation! It's tradition!"

"As is assuming the first child will be a boy. What if we have a girl?"

"We're not having a girl _and_ even if we did, I'd never name her something as mundane and Muggle as Rose."

"Your mother's name is a bloody flower!"

"Must the two of you shout about everything?" Declan Rosier hobbled into the room, working the kinks from his injured knee. He'd decided it was in his best interest to never ski again. "Do what Muggles do!" When they looked at him quizzically he growled.

He mumbled to himself as he skirted around the sofa. He rifled through the drawers of the dark wood desk in the corner until he came away with sheets of parchment and quills.

"Make a bloody list of acceptable names. Compare the lists and see if any of them are the same. I'd suggest for you lot to do the same with middle names as well. Bloody ridiculous to listen to you go at it. No wonder everyone's bloody leaving." Declan poured himself a liberal glass of wine and gulped half of it down with an irritated sigh.

"Everyone? Everyone's leaving?"

"No, Sweetie, I was exaggerating. Bill, Fleur, Victoire, Blaise, Daphne, Coraline, Longbottom, Alice and his shrew. George would like to leave but until his little witch tells us who she is, that's not likely. Luna doesn't care a whit which makes things easy on Fred. Cissy and Satan are staying put and Molly doesn't wish to leave when it's obvious you're going to be pushing the newest little Malfoy out of your..."

"Oi! Enough!" Draco interrupted before Declan could be disparaging to his wife's body parts.

"Satan, Dec?" Hermione's eyes shone with humour even as Declan blushed furiously.

"Well, he's not the nicest bloke is he?"

"He sort of grows on you. At least, he grew on me and Declan without him we'd be..."

"I know, Sweetie, sorry." Declan avoiding her probing brown eyes and sipped his wine loudly, if only to annoy Draco. "I'm perturbed quite honestly. I mean, what on earth are we doing about Potter? Absolutely nothing because he's doing absolutely nothing. Bloody nutter thinks he has Hermione and is quite happy. Sounds nice doesn't it? It is actually, quite lovely for us, but what about those poor witches? What happens when he discovers he doesn't have our girl? What then? Are we seriously just going to sit around doing bloody nothing in the mean time? We're wizards for fuck's sake. Ridiculous."

"I can't believe they're leaving. Harry might be under the influence of some Dark Magic, but he'd expect the Weasleys to search for me. It could ruin everything." Hermione pushed off Draco's knees in order to stand, determined to ease the ache in her back. She swayed on her feet; much like Luna would and found the pain to pass quickly.

"We need to have a sit down with George's witch. I have a sneaking suspicion he's shagging her, which doesn't matter, not really, but he's pretty adamant on keeping her segregated from the rest of us."

"Malfoy, you really believe George is shagging her? Theo and I were having a rather heated debate..."

"He's a man isn't he? He's unattached and while he's a bloody ginger, there are some women that find that attractive." Draco observed Molly in the kitchen, keeping a close eye on Hermione. Molly's eyes narrowed when Hermione's hands worked out a kink in her lower back. Draco wasn't exactly sure what was going on, yet he decided to keep an extra eye on his wife.

* * *

"I don't think we should tell." Penny cuddled into George's side on their four poster bed. "I've told them enough, haven't I? They haven't done anything with it yet, but I told them where the dungeons were located. I even told them everything I knew about the special guard protecting Yaxley, why do I have to tell them anything else?"

Molly and Arthur were still under the illusion Penny Parks was situated in chambers across the hall from George and they weren't in any hurry to tell them otherwise. Fact of the matter is, she hadn't spent a single night away from George and preferred it that way. She was unsure of his exact feelings for her but she knew it was only a matter of time before she was forced to tell him exactly who she is. She wasn't relishing that idea in the least.

"I know who you are." George whispered, threading his fingers through her dark hair, watching the candlelight flicker across her face. "I also know you're pregnant and it couldn't possibly be mine. We can pretend though, if you like. I wouldn't mind." Her eyes were still a muddy hazel, yet her hair had darkened considerably during their time at the Chateau. She closed them tight, unwilling to see the disappointment in George's light eyes.

She hadn't expected to like him. Quite honestly she had thought of allowing him to use her body in order for her to get away from Harry Potter. It was a solid plan; at least she had thought so. George had different ideas.

When she had wandered into his bedroom those months ago, she fully expected him to ravish her. She wouldn't have complained, she was used to such treatment, yet he hadn't. He'd apologised of all things, which sparked tears she hadn't known existed. He had gathered her gently in his arms while she shook. He had whispered the sweetest words she'd ever heard, even if she couldn't remember them any longer. For the first time in her life, she had felt safe.

"You talk in your sleep." George whispered in her ear, his hand pressing into the small of her back. "Tell me; it won't matter. I swear it won't. I'd just like to hear you say it." George had never been inappropriate with her, in all the times they'd shared a bed and she loved that about him. They spent most of their evenings simply talking and it didn't take her long to see George Weasley wasn't simply a prankster. He had depth and intelligence and incredible kindness. She barely noticed his missing ear any longer. It didn't matter to her, not really.

"My name is Pansy Parkinson and I was Harry Potter's whore." She held her breath, waiting for the explosion of anger yet it never came.

Her fingertips danced between the smattering of freckles on his bare arm as they always did. It was something she'd discovered was quite calming. She sighed while trying to extricate herself from his arms, but he held her tight.

"Penelope is much nicer. I prefer it actually. You're not that girl any longer. She wasn't particularly nice. You don't look like her either. I don't think you'll look like her again. I hope that doesn't bother you too much. It would be better to inform my parents sooner rather than later that you're expecting." George's palm ran the length of her torso and back again. He adored the dip of her waist. He was pleased whenever she wore that terrible black dress he'd snagged for her. She'd managed to make it a bit larger. She was quite familiar with the charms most women used on their clothing, but to him, it would always be 'their' dress.

"Why do you care? It's not as if I was ever particularly nice to you. I broke into Draco's house and I..."

"Harry was my brother's best friend. My brother was completely in love with Hermione. He was a blundering idiot, but he loved her. She's in love with Draco Malfoy now, married to him, having his kid. I wonder sometimes what Ron would think of that. He'd be angry, furious even but then I remember the way Harry used to be. The strange little green eyed wizard I watched grow from an unsure child into a man. He would be the one to calm Ron down. He'd be the one to point out how well suited they actually are for each other. He'd tell Ron that Hermione's happiness was more important than his own discomfort and if he was really her friend he'd accept her choices. I figure, it's the same for me.

"Did you know when Fred and Luna got together Angelina finally decided to notice me? I mean, I was always there, but she was dating Fred or rather trying to keep his interest. She thought I'd be grateful to have her. She's a fine looking witch, but I didn't want someone who only saw fit to notice me because my brother tossed her aside. Sure, I might be a twin, but I deserve better than that." George fingered the scrunched hem of her dress, unable or unwilling to quell the desire to feel her skin.

"Are you saying...you've selected _me_?" For some reason, George's scent reminded her of sunshine and the ocean. Perhaps it was because he saved her from her darkest hour or maybe it was the slight salty tang on his skin. It didn't matter, not really. He was different and she needed different.

She barely managed to breathe as his long fingers stroked the back of her knees, working their way up her thigh. She was afraid if she exhaled, he would stop and she didn't want him to stop. She gasped upon feeling his hand on the curve of her bum.

"Penelope. You are Penelope Parks and I'd rather like to snog you senseless."

She nodded then, her face wedged between the pillow and George's neck. She slipped her leg between his the moment his lips touched her earlobe. He rolled slightly, hovering over her and kissed her without preamble. Penelope Parks felt as though she was on fire. She'd snogged her fair share of wizards. She'd shagged her fair share as well and while they had been enjoyable experiences this was different. It felt different. It felt all consuming. It was more.

She'd never had someone be so gentle before. She'd been used and abused, treated like the dirt on the bottom of a shoe. She almost regretted wearing the dress, but she couldn't resist. She adored the way his eyes darkened every time she wore it and that day hadn't been any different. George palmed her breast, waiting for her to reject him. Instead, she moaned lightly, arching into his hand. He felt considerably encouraged, attacking her lips with fervor. She was writhing beneath him, clutching him to her.

Penelope's dress had long since been removed. She felt her nervousness rearing its ugly head as he inched toward her knickers.

* * *

"What the fuck is that ungodly noise?" Declan covered his ears, forcing Theo's hands over his own.

"Molly? Are you cooking dolphin?" Theo called into the kitchen, ignoring Molly's glower. Molly tossed her wooden spoon into the sink basin and went in search of Arthur.

"Perhaps it's some sort of bird...a chicken?"

"I'm sticking with dolphin."

"It could be a hyena..."

"I don't believe hyena's are in the bloody mountains."

"Merlin, make it STOP!"

"Actually, it sort of reminds me of Pansy. Is that strange?" Draco gagged, aiding Hermione in her strange swaying dance.

"Idiots, the lot of you. It's obviously a woman." Hermione stifled a groan with a sneaking suspicion.

"Why does George's witch sound like Pansy?" Draco had difficulty forming the words due to Hermione's death grip on his hand.

"Why do you know what Pansy Parkinson sounds like while shagging?"

"Hermione...love...do you think you could let up a bit?" Draco tried to loosen her fingers, but the furrow of her brows and light sheen of sweat upon her forehead caused him to cease.

"Sweetie, every wizard knows exactly what Pansy Parkinson sounds like while shagging. Even if they're never managed to stick it to her, Peeves was always more than willing to provide reenactment services."

"That's revolting." Hermione hummed quietly, resuming her Luna-like sway, ignoring the inquiring glances.

From Declan's position on the sofa, he had a clear view of George's bedroom door. His eyebrows rose considerably when he spied George tiptoeing across the hall to sneak into the kitchen.

"Oi! Theo, remember when George was bellowing like a banshee? I believe it was quite a few months ago, but just the same...what was it he was angry about?" Declan jabbed Theo in the ribs, motioning toward George's stock still form near the sink basin.

"I believe he was berating us for shagging quite loudly without the use of proper Silencing Charms."

"Oh yes, that's right. I remember now. It would be quite hypocritical of him to shag without the use of _any_ charm, wouldn't it?"

"Especially when the little witch he keeps hidden away sounds exactly like Pansy Parkinson." Theo snickered loudly, kissing the side of Declan's unshaven face.

He never saw George Weasley charge toward him in his red plaid boxers. He hadn't discovered the ire of an angry Weasley until the freckled fist connected with his jaw. Theo felt his neck snap back into the sofa and felt Declan scramble from his arms. He hadn't the chance to utter a word before his head was knocked back again and he felt the crunch of bones against his cheek.

"GEORGE WEASLEY!" Hermione shrieked, flicking her wand quickly.

George froze in forward motion as the Petrificus Totalas took effect, pitching him forward. Theo groaned, unable to form coherent thought, even as Declan yanked him out from under a frozen enraged George.

Arthur and Molly with conspicuously mussed hair and misbuttoned shirts hurried into the expansive space. If it hadn't been such a dire situation, Draco would have laughed. Declan had much of the same thought, snorting loudly at Arthur's balding disarray.

"What what WHAT is going on here?" Molly, in her striped housecoat crouched beside George, prepared to remove the spell.

"George attacked Theo." Draco supplied. He swayed behind Hermione, his hands on her rotund stomach, his frown deepening as it hardened beneath his fingers. "Granger, are you alright?" Draco pressed his cheek to hers, feeling nervous with her lack of response.

Declan pulled Arthur aside, softly explaining the issue. Arthur managed his emotions well, even as Pansy Parkinson was mentioned and George's reaction. Molly removed the spell, yet smacked George about the head which redirected his fury.

"Son, did you know?" Arthur patted his son's shoulder with concern, yet there was suspicion lying just under the surface which did not go unnoticed by the present company.

"I suspected. It was in the little things. You wouldn't understand..." George sighed dejectedly, nursing his bleeding knuckles.

"Try me, son."

"It wasn't any one thing. Sometimes it was the look in her eye when she was gazing out the window, the tilt of her head when I asked her a question. In the beginning it was the sneer on her lips whenever I talked about Malfoy and Hermione. I'm not going to listen to you rage against me. I refuse to hear you speak badly about her. You haven't the slightest what she's survived. She's Penelope now. That's all that matters, well that and..." George winced when Molly healed his knuckles, his light eyes straying to his bedroom door. He could see her shadow against the stark white and part of him was terrified his family would hex her.

"It's alright, George." Penelope "Pansy Parkinson" Parks stepped out from the safety of George's bedroom.

Her bare feet padded across the cool tile. The long grass green dress she had slipped on, accentuated her hazel eyes. The empire waist, in its simplicity made it fall in gentle waves, never clinging in any one place. She ignored the probing stares, her eyes locking on George. If she concentrated on him, she could do this.

She ignored the low growl she knew was emanating from Draco. She spied his protective stance in front of Hermione in her peripheral vision and almost smiled. She remembered when she could never imagine being with anyone else. She had truly believed Draco Malfoy hung the moon, regardless of the way he had so easily dismissed her. It was strange for her to feel relief in knowing she'd never have to spend another moment trying to live up to Draco Malfoy's expectations. He was never hers and she was glad. She was busy walking toward her future.

"M-Molly, I'm terribly sorry to...to...interrupt, but is Fleur still here?" Hermione panted, her lips slightly pursed.

"Of course dear. She's waiting for you in your room. I'll set the kettle on. I suspect you'll be wanting a piping cup of raspberry leaf soon." Molly nodded rapidly and struggled to her feet.

"Arthur, leave the girl be."

"Molly...it's a matter of security!"

"Pish tosh, Arthur. She's been here for months. She hasn't used her wand once; in fact I believe I found pieces of it on the veranda. George is quite besotted with the girl and I believe I've lost enough children. That's all I'll hear of it."

"Raspberry leaf...is she..." Penelope swallowed hard, finally finding the courage to look at Hermione. She took in the wet curls pasted to her forehead, the clenched teeth and soft pants, her eyes widening in understanding.

"Penelope, do you have any Healer training perhaps?" Molly called over her shoulder, filling the large kettle with water.

"I-I don't think...I mean, it might be best if..."

"Fleur will need a hand and I'm much better suited to keeping the men calm." Molly thrust a handful of tea towels into Penelope's hands and gave her a gentle shove toward the stairs.

Arthur helped George to his feet shaking his head. He knew better than to interfere with his wife's demands, yet he'd be lying if he said he wasn't feeling a bit of trepidation on the matter. It's not that he'd personally known Pansy Parkinson, yet he'd heard enough to swear him off the former Slytherin. Even Arthur had to admit, she'd been the perfect guest thus far. He supposed it was his past prejudices wrecking havoc with his congenial disposition. It didn't help the matter to be housed with Lucius Malfoy. Arthur sighed heavily; he supposed the world truly had changed. It was a bit of a shame really that he hadn't noticed until now.

"Granger...love, you don't look well." Hermione leaned heavily on Draco's offered arm, willing her feet to move one in front of the other. She groaned heavily, throwing her arms around his neck which alleviated the excruciating pain in her back.

"Draco! Unless you'd prefer your child born on the bloody floor, get your wife upstairs!" Molly's bellow while she strode forward, her hands ladened with a tea tray, snapped Draco out of his haze.

"The baby...it...it's coming...n-now? I'm not ready. We're not ready. We haven't anything. We haven't a name." Draco felt slightly weak in the knees, even as he braced his arms to keep Hermione upright.

"We'll name it Big Fat Head. Please get me upstairs. I've managed all...ohhhhhh...day and I can't..."

"What the fuck all day?"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy you get me the fuck upstairs right now or you'll wonder why your bollocks are shoved up your arse!"

"Oh my, best hurry then Draco dear, it's almost time." Molly hurried down the stairs after dropping off the tea tray. She hefted one of Hermione's arms around her shoulders, turning her slowly.

"Why can't we use magic and levitate her?" Draco whispered while they slowly ascended.

"I will kill him." Hermione hissed trying to force herself upward.

"It would have been easier if she had gone up before it became unbearable. It's in the best interest of your child to refrain from using magic if it can be helped."

"Wait, she's got to suffer? Can't even have a simple Pain Potion?" Hermione's fingernails dug into his forearm the moment they reached the top of the stairs as she was wracked with a particularly difficult contraction.

"She's opted not to use them, dear." Molly's knuckles fisted Hermione's lower back until she was able to stand upright once more.

"Vhat are you doeeng here? She zhud be in bed. 'Ermione you have waited too long." Even in her altered state, Hermione had to admit Fleur Weasley's English had drastically improved. She sagged in relief as the wispy witch patted her forehead with a damp cloth.

"Almost there, love." Draco crooned, kissing her temple. Normally she would appreciate such a gesture, yet today she wished to hex him into oblivion.

"Stop touching me, I hate you."

"Granger...Hermione...I..."

"Draco dear, pay no attention. All women have said horrid things to their spouses while bringing children into the world." Molly patted Draco's hand as they finally eased Hermione into bed. Molly amused herself by watching Draco scurry around the bedchamber fluffing pillows and propping Hermione comfortably against the headboard.

"E eez adoreeble."

"It's too hot. I can't wear all these bloody clothes." Hermione panted quickly tossing her clothes onto the floor and sighing in relief. She allowed Fleur to cover her with a light sheet before closing her eyes.

"Is she...is she sleeping?" Draco gaped in shock and amazement before settling beside her on the large bed. Molly nodded softly, filling a mug with piping hot tea and standing beside Hermione.

"Ow long haz it been Molly?" Fleur busied herself by cleaning a small bassinet she had demanded Bill fetch from Shell Cottage. She tucked a small blanket around the cushioned bottom, humming a soft tune.

"She seemed a bit uncomfortable this morning and irritated as well. Sometime this afternoon there was a bit of panting until she started to sway. Draco was quite helpful actually."

"Eef I 'ad to guess, eet started last night. A few more hours, less if she drinks ze tea." Hermione groaned heavily, her eyes fluttering open with a gasp.

"Get it out."

"Ermione, bebé's take time." Fleur nodded toward Molly who thrust the still piping mug into Hermione's hands.

"Drink it quickly dear, it will help move everything along. Draco, it's customary for the men to gather and fret together..."

"No, I'm staying." Molly chuffed lightly with a roll of her eyes yet didn't argue further.

"Ees alright Molly. Bill stayed with me. Eet was quite lovely."

"Hmph, in _my_ day the men paced and drank. There's no need for them to see such things."

"Mrs. Weasley, this is my child", Draco sidled up to Hermione's side, "our child and I'd prefer not to miss a single moment."

"Draco, I need to see...to uhm...'ow you say? Progress, yes. 'Elp her lie down, yes? Molly, could you see to Bill and Victoire? She geeves him a difficult time. I could use Penelopé as well." Draco let out a sigh of relief the moment Molly closed the door behind her.

"Thank you." Hermione breathed as Draco removed the pillows propped behind her knees and helped her slide down the bed.

"Molly means well. She eez lovely, she simply haz antiquated notions. Penelopé will 'elp." Draco wanted to argue with Fleur yet for Hermione's sake he bit his lip. He didn't wish to cause her undue stress, though he didn't especially relish the idea of Pansy bloody Parkinson aiding in the birth of his child.

Penelope swept into the room quietly, instantly pouring Hermione another mug of tea after reheating it with her wand. She avoided the grey eyes she could feel upon her and began turning down the covers on the bed.

"She's ready for you, Fleur." Draco almost didn't recognise the soft, dare he say it, sweet voice floating from 'Penelope's' mouth. He decided not to dwell on such things until later.

Fleur bent Hermione's knees and folded back the sheet. Draco swallowed, focusing on Hermione's pinched face instead of the pale blonde between his wife's legs. He wasn't sure what she was doing, but he was sure he didn't wish to know.

"I-I 'ave to get Molly..." Fleur frowned, her nervousness obvious.

"Wait, let me?" Penelope begged with her hazel eyes, searching the golden brown of Hermione Malfoy.

"All...alright." Hermione stared at the ceiling, relaxing slightly at the sensation of Draco's hand slipping into hers.

"Alright, Hermione...there's a slight...issue. I know it's going to be difficult for you, but I need you to trust me." Fleur wrung her hands, tying back her long pale blonde hair.

"Draco?" Hermione grunted, feeling relief from the pressure in her abdomen.

"No! Hermione, don't push." Penelope's hazel eyes flicked to Draco's and he could see they were laced with fear.

"Do whatever you have to do to make sure they're alright." Draco kissed Hermione, hard and bruising before another onslaught of groans filled the air.

"Hermione, I need you to get on your hands and knees. We have to turn the baby. We have to move faster than I'd like, but we can do it." Hermione was exhausted and although she didn't understand the purpose behind the instructions, she allowed Draco to help her onto her side before she rolled onto her knees. She hated feeling exposed and the fact it was her husband's ex-girlfriend inspecting her lady parts didn't help the issue in the least.

Hermione closed her eyes, gasping when Fleur pulled the sheet from her. She allowed her body to be manipulated and felt calm as she was rocked to and fro.

"It's a Muggle technique. I learned about it in Healer training. I really wanted to work with mothers and young children. The rocking sometimes can cajole the babies to turn on their own. I'm going to ask Fleur to manipulate your stomach gently on Draco's side, while I do the same on this side. You're almost ready to push so we've really got to work together here."

"What's wrong?" Draco couldn't bear to look at Penelope; he was terrified for his wife.

"The baby isn't in the correct position. It happens sometimes."

"I don't care what you have to do. Get it out. It fucking HURTS!" Hermione didn't care that her arse was bare for all to see. She didn't care that it was Pansy Parkinson aiding her during one of the most painful moments she'd ever intentionally experienced. The only thing she truly cared about was giving birth to a healthy child. Everything else could come later.

"It should be easier to manipulate the baby since your bag of waters hasn't broken yet. I must warn you, from what I've learned, the bag of waters has a tendency to burst during the procedure." Penelope locked eyes with Fleur as their hands prodded Hermione's stomach.

Hermione bit her lip, breathing heavily through her nose in order to keep herself centered. She focused on her breath sounds and not the excruciating pain ripping through her. She wanted to scream, but she didn't want to upset Draco. Hermione almost laughed with the thought. Here she was, soaked in sweat, riddled in pain and she was more concerned over Draco's wellbeing than her own. He would call that typical Hermione Granger. She smiled quickly, it freezing on her lips as a gush of water rushed from between her thighs, soaking the sheets beneath her. She felt relief from the pressure until the next contraction hit.

"SWEET MERLIN!" Hermione wanted to curl into herself with a primal scream. Instead, she felt herself being rolled onto her back, a hard body behind her. She squeezed the thighs on either side of her, a guttural groan drowning out any other sounds.

"Push, Hermione."

It wasn't much longer before the bedchamber was filled with the angry screams of a newborn. Hermione sagged against Draco, grateful he stayed with her. Her eyes were beginning to droop, but she desperately wished to see her child.

"It's a boy." Penelope whispered, delicately placing the soothed newborn in Hermione's arms, before leaving the new parents alone.

Hermione immediately peeled back the flannel blanket, counting his fingers and toes. She lifted him with leaden arms and inhaled deeply. There was a thin layer of blond hair on his head and his eyes were squeezed shut tight.

"He's beautiful." Hermione cuddled him close, kissing his brow. Draco peeked over her shoulder, gazing at his son.

"We made him." Draco kissed her cheek, afraid to touch his child.

"We have to name him, but Draco, I'm so tired. Could you...could you hold him? I just...I just want to rest my eyes for a moment."

"I can't, what if...what if I drop him or hurt him or..."

"Malfoy, he's your son. Sit beside me, Penelope cleaned the bed a bit and bond with him. Open your shirt a bit and place him on your chest. We can all nap together. It's quite difficult being born." Hermione waited patiently for Draco to extricate himself and use the loo before climbing back into their bed.

She almost smirked at his shaking hands, but she didn't want him to be afraid to hold their son. She wanted him to be a proactive parent. Deep down, she knew Draco wanted to be a better father than his own and this was the first step. She laid him carefully in Draco's arms, tears pricking her eyes as he held their son so close, with a sense of wonder on his face.

She climbed from the bed with difficulty and padded to the loo. She eyed the amber bottle beside the sink with weary eyes and spotted the note. Hermione thought it was exceedingly kind of Penelope to leave a Pain Potion for her. She assumed it was safe and downed it easily before padding back to bed. Draco hadn't moved an inch.

"Jarek." He said so quietly, she almost missed it. Hermione was taking long blinks, taking mental pictures of her husband and son.

"Jah-rek or Yah-rek?"

"Jah-rek." Draco smoothed the wispy hair on their son's head with a small smile.

"What does it mean?" Hermione mumbled as she cuddled into the warmth of the bed.

"Fierce and strong. I toyed with the idea of constellations, but everything seemed to revolve around my family. My family is the epitome of dysfunctional; I don't want that legacy passed down to our children."

"Children? You expect me to do this again?"

"At least once, Granger. You promised me."

"You can give birth next time..." Hermione's eyes finally closed as she slipped into a restful, satisfying sleep.


	13. End of the Line

**AN: And this fic is quickly drawing to a close...whoot. I didn't spend hours poring over this chapter for errors so...forgive them ;-)**

**I'm hoping another chapter...perhaps 2 and then the epilogue. As always - thanx for reading *kisses***

* * *

Chapter 13 – End of the Line

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was losing his mind. At least he was convinced of such things. It was an easy conclusion to make when surrounded by Weasleys and squalling infants. He wasn't fond of infants when he was an infant, it was absolutely despicable now. He had managed to avoid the cooing of his wife and the womanly discussions surrounding nappies and vomit. He was a Malfoy for Salazar's sake! He could not waste his time upon such endeavors. It was unseemly to be reduced to a mere Nanny and Lucius was not one to bow to anyone's demands. Not even his wife's, which is how he happened to be hiding in the small outbuilding near the Chateau.

"You've discovered my spot!" Arthur Weasley shoved Lucius from the door and closed it as quietly as humanly possible.

"I do believe I was here first Weasley." Lucius sniffed with disdain, keeping a wary grey eye on the Chateau from his vantage point.

"Lucius, must you be so disagreeable? If we worked together we could avoid the Estrogen-fest in the main house." Arthur hid behind the red plaid draperies when Molly stepped onto the veranda, brandishing her spoon.

"What on earth is Estrogen?" Lucius sat on the dusty armchair, his lip curling with derision.

"Hormones, I read about it in a Muggle medical text. Apparently women have them and it makes them go a bit barmy when surrounded by sticky children." The pounding on the wooden door interrupted Arthur's explanation for which Lucius was most grateful.

"Let us in! Quick, let us in!" Draco and Fred's furious fists beat on the door in obvious panic.

Lucius crossed his legs while tutting in annoyance. Arthur on the other hand, threw open the door and dragged the breathless wizards into the small room.

"Thank Merlin." Fred gulped, bent over at the waist with a stitch in his side. "You've saved us from another harrowing episode of 'why can't you change the nappies?'. I don't think I could have survived it." Fred slumped onto the floor, his nose crinkling at the musty smell of the outbuilding.

"She won't stop crying. I could understand the baby crying, but she cries over everything. I'm going bloody insane. Molly says it's completely normal, but I can't take it. Add Penelope's raging hormones to the mix and I'd rather face Harry Potter than any of those witches." Draco removed the silver flask from the inside pocket of his cloak and took a long swallow.

"Why don't we then?" Arthur snatched the flask, gulping loudly and passed it to Lucius.

Lucius for his sake, glanced at the flask and then shrugged, taking care to wipe the rim before taking a small sip. As much as it pained him to admit it, Arthur Weasley had a point. Why weren't they pursuing Harry Potter? It's not as if they didn't know where he was, they did. It wasn't as if they weren't capable of entering Potter's nefarious lair.

"It's not the worst idea you've ever had Weasley." Lucius dropped the flask into Fred's lap, avoiding contact with the disheveled wizard.

"Was that…was a compliment?" Arthur gaped at the long haired pale wizard with a sense of incredulousness.

"I wouldn't go quite that far, however, it is a valid question. Why is that we, as fairly intelligent wizards are cowering in the face of overemotional witches instead of pursuing the wizard whom has sequestered us in such a manner we're eluding our wives? It's absolutely ridiculous. We're better than this. Well, I'm better than this, I can't say as much for you, Weasley."

"And there's the Lucius we all know and love to hate." Arthur rolled his eyes, quite used to the elder Malfoy's antics.

"Oi, Malfoy, you do realise our father's are in the same room and no one's died yet, yeah?"

"I know, I'm a bit terrified. Perhaps we should consider actually changing the nappies?"

"Shut your filthy mouth!" Fred succinctly clamped his large freckled hand over Draco Malfoy's mouth with a quickness that hasn't been seen since Hogwarts Quidditch.

"I do believe our children are mocking us."

"Well Lucius, I suppose anything is better than changing a nappy."

* * *

It was a dark, cool night and the stars were barely blinking in the stormy sky, yet Harry Potter knew something was amiss. He spared a glance at the curly haired witch beside him and snarled. She wasn't Hermione, he knew that much was true, but deciphering her true identity was another mystery entirely. The question that plagued him was a simple one really. If this more than willing witch wasn't Hermione Granger than where was the real Hermione and why were his Death Eaters attempting to deceive him?

"Get up." Harry hissed, jabbing the witch in the small of her back with his forefinger.

The witch in question gathered the crisp black sheets around her naked form and blinked her eyes rapidly, just as she was taught. She couldn't feign the blush which she supposed should accompany her actions, but she did the best she could. She knew Harry was getting suspicious but there wasn't much if anything she could do about it. She was the last of a long line of witches impersonating the woman Harry Potter demanded.

Pansy Parkinson had escaped. It wasn't like it was very difficult, they weren't even locked into their cells at night, but things were lonelier without Pansy. A few of the other girls had an adverse reaction to the Potion and had died. She supposed they hadn't bothered to inform Harry of much of anything. He wasn't even aware the witch he rutted into each evening wasn't Hermione Granger. So much for being a brilliant wizard.

"Drop the sheet." Harry hissed once more. It seemed he was constantly hissing these days. She didn't mind his orders, not any longer. In fact, she was quite fond of the mad wizard. It wasn't his fault Yaxley had cursed him. She dreaded the day the Ministry discovered not only their whereabouts but managed to break through the wards protecting them. While she spun in a slow circle for Harry's perusal, she wondered what would happen to her…

"There's something different about you. I can't quite put my finger on it." Harry lifted her golden curls, leered at her perk breasts and ran his palm over her flat stomach. "I can't understand why you're not carrying my child. Do you think Malfoy did something untoward?"

"Of course not, Harry." She knew she'd never carry the next Potter, but it didn't have anything to do with Malfoy or even Harry. She'd been damaged in the war. She would never have a child of her own, but at this point, she wasn't sure she'd survive the end of Potter Days, so what did it matter?

"Do you remember when I caught you fucking Malfoy in the library?" Harry's green eyes were a dangerous shade of red, but she hadn't noticed.

She was anxiously flipping through every minute speck of information she'd been handed in order to play the perfect Hermione Granger. She couldn't recall an instance of Hermione and Draco having a single liaison at Hogwarts, but anything was possible. She never expected Ron Weasley to take a fall meant for Harry Potter nor had she expected to become his incognito mistress.

"It was a long time ago, Harry. I can't be expected to remember everything." She shrugged one shoulder, glancing over at him and immediately knew it was the wrong response.

Harry Potter grabbed the curls at the base of her neck in his fist and yanked her head backward, hard. He wanted to slap her, yet refrained on the off chance he was wrong. However, he was almost certain, in the deep recesses of the remaining good of his soul; this witch was not Hermione Granger.

"Who. Are. You?"

"Harry please, I don't know what you mean." She instantly knew it was the wrong response upon the resonating glow emanating from his blood red eyes.

The subsequent screams reverberated against the dreary gray stone walls, until the moon raised high in the evening sky.

* * *

"Are you bloody insane?" Hermione's venomous growl would have intimidated anyone else; however Lucius Malfoy was hardly intimidated easily. He had managed to reside with Voldemort after all, every moment after that was mere child's play.

"Not yet, but I fear if we remain here for much longer, insanity is a viable possibility."

"Do you even have a plan or are you just going to rush into Malfoy Manor and demand Harry Potter vacate the premises?" Hermione was thankful she was holding her son as it kept her from hexing her father-in-law.

"That's actually not a half bad idea…" Theo's mouth clamped shut as he received glares all around.

"I told you we shouldn't have told them. We should have just Apparated in the middle of the night, but no you lot had to go and talk to your wives first." Fred's indignation quickly turned to disgust as the distinct sensation of his daughter's nappy filling wafted toward his nostrils.

"Weasley, make yourself useful and change a nappy eh?" Draco smirked, fiddling with his son's foot while he nursed.

"I don't understand why…"

"Granger, yes you do. You knew it would eventually come to this. You can't expect us to live our lives in hiding. I understand he was your friend once, I do, but do you really want our son to grow up like this? I don't wish to spend the rest of my life wondering if Harry Potter is going to discover my family's whereabouts and snatch away my wife."

They were all seated in the Great Room of the Chateau the tension following through in waves. Hermione and Draco were in the corner on a plaid loveseat nearest the hearth while Jarek nursed noisily. She ignored the questioning stares as she knew they were awaiting an outburst, but it didn't come. She hated the flurry of conflicting emotions raging a silent war within her, but Draco wasn't wrong. She angrily swiped away the tears dripping down her cheeks and reached for his hand.

"I just…it's…" Hermione struggled to formulate her thoughts. She didn't wish to sound like an inept witch unwilling to face what needed to be done, but at the same time she was afraid. "What if something happens to you?"

"I have to take the risk because if I don't, I'll be asking myself _that_ bloody question every single day for as long as Harry Potter is wrecking havoc."

"That's not fair."

"Granger, none of this is fair. You'll be safe here. My mother, Molly, Luna and even bloody Penelope will be here with you. I'm sure Daphne and even Fleur will wind up here eventually. I can't imagine Blaise and Bill allowing us to go without them." Draco dropped his arm around his wife's shoulders and squeezed her gently.

"I know how to get in." Penelope swallowed hard, wrestling herself free from George's iron grip.

Her appearance hadn't changed much from when she first arrived, but there was something about her that exuded a tamer Pansy Parkinson than even Draco had known. She was timid, yet there was fire brewing just beneath the surface. She shook off her simple beige shawl, leaving George clutching it angrily and knelt on the floor beside Hermione. They had formed an awkward alliance of sorts, especially since Penelope had aided Hermione during the labour of her son.

"You can't go of course, that's as ridiculous as..."

"Hermione, you've got to let them do this. It's up to you now. You have to use that ridiculously enormous intelligence of yours and figure out a way for them to get there safely. I've got a notebook. I've written down everything I could possibly remember about being there. I've even managed a few sketches of the corridors and the names of every witch and wizard I'd ever seen. You're Hermione Granger. You are the strongest witch I've ever known and it's no secret I hated you for it, but now? I need to be free. We all need to be free and we never will be with Harry Potter running amuck. You've got to put your personal feelings aside. Do you think I enjoy the idea of George running about? You know how bloody reckless he is." Hermione managed a small smile and patted Penelope's hand.

"You're right Pans. The lot of them actually, they've always been a bit reckless."

"Enough of this idle prattle; Hermione, give me my grandson. George, retrieve the notebook in question. Declan, Theo there are more appropriate venues for your lascivious actions, every bloody time I turn around you're accosting each other. It's unseemly. Molly, I won't even attempt to set foot into your kitchen, but I do believe tea service is in order if we're ever going to make any progress. Merlin knows there's not a single one of them capable of thinking on an empty stomach." Narcissa Malfoy clapped her hands and the scurry of feet laced with disgruntled murmurs filled the air.

"Your mum is surprisingly organised." Hermione whispered to her husband after placing her son in an impatient Narcissa's arms.

"Of course, why do you think my father's business is so lucrative? She handles all the details, but allows him to think he's in charge." Draco couldn't resist kissing her. He did so love the way her nose crinkled when she was thinking particularly hard.

Hermione could feel the energy in the air shift and it enthralling. She had spent so many months hiding, cowering even, instead of being the headstrong witch she had always been. She relished the idea of poring over parchment and formulating strategies, it was the idea of Draco sprinting into the fray which worried her.

Hermione allowed Draco to help her to her feet, not because she was unsteady, she simply wished to soak up as much contact as possible. It was silly, she knew it was. She had survived numerous dangerous tasks; the only difference with this was she was being left behind. It was difficult to plan accordingly. If anything were to go wrong, she wouldn't be on hand to adjust to their needs.

"When this is all said and done, I wish to have a girl." Draco sat at the head of the magicked wooden table and forced his wife onto his lap.

"You're absolutely mad. I can't possibly think of more children when I've barely birthed the first."

"Think of it like this Granger, I'm a Malfoy. I always get what I want; therefore I'm expressing my desire for a girl. I can't bloody well have a daughter if I'm dead now can I?" Draco wiggled his eyebrows to lighten the mood amid the uncomfortable chuffs of laughter surrounding them.

Hermione was distracted, that much was obvious to all the occupants gathered around the table as they began conversing amongst themselves. Her caramel eyes stared at the pieces of parchment laid out before her while Declan and Theo argued about which of them was to join the crusade against Potter. George grumbled unhappily while flipping through Penelope's surprisingly detailed notes. Arthur and Lucius slid a bottle of firewhisky between them ignoring the glowers of their respective wives.

Draco amused himself by toying with his wife. It was quite a conundrum for him. He realised Hermione had given birth a few weeks past and yet he discovered an unquenchable urge to shag her senseless. His mother had lectured him upon eavesdropping on a conversation with his father, demanding he allow her to rest. Begrudgingly he had complied, though he hadn't seen the sense in it. They were bloody wizards for Salazar's sake. It was unnecessary to be convalescent after having a child. That is what Potions were invented for; at least that was his reasoning. Of course it fell upon deaf ears and he did not wish to risk his wife's ire by suggesting otherwise.

He was particularly intrigued with the remaining swell of her lower abdomen. Hermione detested it; of course, claiming it made her feel fat, but Draco was of the opinion it was simply evidence she had carried his child which he found deliciously sexy. It was easy enough for him to slip his palms beneath her blouse and stroke the smooth skin of her back. It was easier to continue his journey of exploration while she was distracted.

"Malfoy, I can't concentrate when you're doing that." Draco snickered despite Hermione's irritation. She slammed her palms onto the smooth wood and groaned. "The least you could do is make yourself useful to the discussion."

"I'm sorry love, we can't all be you." He playfully nipped her earlobe, grunting upon receiving a solid elbow to his ribs.

"THAT'S IT! You're a bloody genius!" Hermione leapt to her feet with laughter before she quickly spun on her toes and kissed Draco hard.

"Now she's gone and woken the baby, delightful. I do hope all that shouting serves a purpose." Lucius managed to control the snarl begging to twitch his lip in favour of pouring another tumbler of firewhisky.

"It's so simply really, I can't believe I didn't think of it before. If I had we would have already started brewing, ugh I detest that it takes so bloody long. You'd think they could do something about that, it's magic after all…"

"Granger, love you're rambling. We haven't the slightest idea what you're going on about."

"Fred, George, do you remember when we were all Harry?" Hermione bounced on her toes, almost as if she were ready to take flight while the twins grinned widely.

They looked at Hermione, winking simultaneously, before giving each other congratulatory hugs. Finally, they burst into raucous laughter.

"That's brilliant!"  
"I've always wondered what Hermione looked like completely starkers."  
"Do you think her breasts are magically enhanced?"  
"I wonder if my bum will jiggle."

Hermione shoved Draco into his chair and flounced onto his lap if only to keep him from hexing the twins. He was quite prepared to struggle, but Hermione used her feminine wiles to keep him in place. She unfurled his angry red fists and dropped his palms onto her thighs. She laced her fingers through his, digging her fingertips into the meaty flesh of her thighs and he gasped.

"Sweetie, I don't think it's quite appropriate to fondle your husband at the table." Declan Rosier winked at his best friend, wondering when they had grown apart.

It wasn't a conscious decision on either of their parts, but sometimes he supposed, these things happened. It had been a difficult transition for both of them upon returning from the dregs of the dungeon and Declan realised it was in the subtle silences. He detested the silence now and ever present drip of water from a faucet. It propelled him to that place, that dark, dingy, damp place. Declan had honestly believed he would die in such a place and to see Hermione there, was almost more than he could bear. He hadn't truly forgiven yet, for tricking him. He had always thought he was a strong person, not a particularly talented wizard, but a strong man. However, Hermione had proved to have more tenacity than he could ever imagine which forced him to reevaluate everything. He relied on Theo now, the way Hermione relied on Draco and he knew, the only way they could ever return to some semblance of what they once were was to eliminate Harry Potter.

Declan watched Draco drag Hermione from the Great Room with a smile. She deserved a small piece of happiness before the walls crumbled down around them. He sat up a bit straighter and gripped Theo's hand. Theo frowned slightly, used to being the aggressor, yet the saw the determination glint in Declan's striking blue eyes and accepted the rough hand in his own.

"I'm assuming she was referring to Polyjuice…" Declan began with such force, the witches and wizards surrounding him snapped to attention.

Declan Rosier would not cower; he would not fail, not again.

* * *

Hermione attempted to speak, but her words were muffled by her husband's lips the moment they stepped into their bedchamber. Draco tore open her blouse and she protested upon hearing the sound of her buttons dance across the hardwood floor. He walked her backwards until they fell upon the bed in a heap of limbs, their mouths moving in a frenzy of passion and need.

"If I were a Muggle, you'd have to wait six weeks." Hermione gasped as his lips trailed a blaze of hot kisses along her throat.

"Thank Merlin for magic." Draco quickly removed Hermione's remaining clothing, while she struggled with his belt buckle.

"Draco, slow down." Draco tore her knickers off, tossing the scraps of material on the floor without removing her skirt. He was unable to resist the draw of her heavy breasts, perk peaks begging for attention.

Hermione's breaths came hard and fast and as much as she wished he would slow his madness, she couldn't help but take pleasure in the feel of his skin against hers; nimble fingers paying homage to the alluring folds nestled between her thighs. It was easy to fall into an abyss of pleasure, despite the impending doom. The only thing which existed for them was each other. The blood rushing in their ears, the frantic beats of their hearts, the stuttered breaths, sensual moans, the gentle rock of the bed beneath them while the sounds of sweat slicked skin crashing together set them into a fit of giggles.

"Granger," Draco shoved Hermione's sticky curls off her forehead, his elbows braced alongside her head while he settled himself between her thighs. Hermione's eyes remained closed, her body arching against him, adjusting herself just so until his hardened length was nestled against her.

"No talking, not now." He stroked her face, willing himself to remain still until her eyes finally opened. She was stunned by the intensity swimming in his silvery eyes and reached for his face.

"Hermione, I love you. You know I love you, but I want you to promise me something." Draco flexed his hips slightly, smirking when he was rewarded with a wanton moan.

"Y-you want me to stay behind."

"I need you to stay behind. I can't bloody concentrate if you're there. I need to know you'll be safe." Achingly slow, Draco moved within her, until he was buried to the hilt and stopped once more.

"I-it wouldn't be fair…" Hermione's hands dropped, digging into the flesh of his hips, silently imploring him to move.

"I know it's not bloody fair, none of this is fair. If something were to happen to you, where would I be then? Where would our son be? I know you're fucking brilliant, but Potter…he almost broke you, so promise me. I'm sure you'll have a bloody brilliant plan and I'll follow it, to the fucking letter, if you remain behind with Jarek." His lips met hers in the sweetest kiss she had ever imagined. She thought she could simply die from the emotion behind it and nodded.

"I promise for the sake of Jarek. Merlin knows it would be irresponsible for both of us to wander about." She cried out then, Draco reared backward slamming back into her with such force she saw stars of pleasure cascade around her.

* * *

Penelope Parks was a witch on a mission. She sat beside George listening to the aimless chatter with half an ear. It was ridiculous to think this menagerie of witches and wizards was completely incapable of formulating a passable plan without the aid of Hermione Malfoy. She supposed it made sense on some level. Lucius Malfoy had always been a blind follower and while his wife was quite formidable when it came to business, she was out of her depth when it came to war. Arthur Weasley was completely henpecked by Molly and she was more concerned with the safety of her family than ridding the world of Harry Potter. Poor Molly Weasley was still deluded into thinking Harry Potter could be saved if they all just thought about it enough. Fred and George, she had to admit, displayed some very Slytherin qualities with their conniving ways. If Draco managed to put aside his ego and work with the twins, they actually stood a chance.

"We need McGonagall." Penelope interjected. Lucius was instantly inflamed. He did so detest to be interrupted, it mattered little that what he was saying was of no consequence.

"Why on earth would we need her? She's a stodgy old bird and…" Fred grumbled, quite put out at the idea of his old Professor spoiling his idea of fun.

"She's the only one who will be able to keep you lot in line. I'm not of a mind to watch people I've come to care about rush off on some harebrained idea that has the potential to get you all killed. You can't get onto the Manor grounds without a guide or at the very least allowing yourself to be captured. They wouldn't bother to capture you unless you were disguised as Hermione. It'll take a bloody month to brew enough Polyjuice for the lot of you, but…"

"But after the Moody Impostor debacle, the Ministry houses all the ingredients necessary, but they give Hogwarts special allowances for teaching purposes." Arthur Weasley was quite pleased with himself. It wasn't often he was the bearer of news which wasn't already known. "Hogwarts does have the resources we require. Even if we had the ingredients we don't have the cauldrons nor do we have a dedicated space. It really would behoove us all to…"

"Absolutely not. I know what you're thinking and I have no desire to return to that blasted castle under any circumstances."

Lucius Malfoy might have snapped and snarled at the idea of returning to Hogwarts, but the reason behind such declarations was his secret. He had always hated the dungeons, the way the cold seeped into your very bones. He had no desire to return to the place of his fall from grace. He knew he had never truly deserved or even earned a state of grace, it was the memories. He did everything within his power to avoid the memories. He detested the overwhelming helplessness that had enveloped him at the end of the Second Wizarding War. He had wished nothing more than to free himself and his family from the confines of Voldemort's insatiable need for power. He had seen his reflection in the mirror of his son's eyes. Lucius knew he was a broken man at that point and it was only the irrevocable love for his wife and son that propelled him forward. He didn't wish to see pity in any of their eyes, ever again.

"Do you think any of us wish to return there? Do you not think we all haven't lost? Whether the loss was a piece of our humanity or a loved one, we all lost something in that Merlin forsaken war. I lost my youngest son, Lucius Malfoy. Imagine if you had lost Draco. Just because my husband and I have managed to have seven children bless our lives, it doesn't make them any less precious. You didn't lose your son; you lost yourself and rediscovered who you truly are in that place. You're still a bit of a bastard, but you're a bastard that loves his family and no one can fault you for that regardless of your unsavory endeavors. We're going to go to Hogwarts. We're all going to go and face this madness head on. If that ruddy Voldemort didn't get the best of us, than Harry Potter shan't either." Molly Weasley slapped her wooden spoon onto the table with enough force it snapped.

She felt a sense of peace when the rounded end of her broken spoon bounced across the table and hit Lucius Malfoy between his narrowed eyes. Molly allowed a small smile to grace her thin lips before she clapped her hands and began ordering them all about. Arthur sighed and took a long, hard pull from the firewhisky bottle.

"Penelope and George are gone." Luna bounced Louis while patting his bum. The gurgling child didn't seem to mind, yet Lucius found the action quite jarring and shook his head. "I went into their room to ask them to keep an eye on Louis for me while I gathered some belongings and it was empty. Their things are gone as well." Luna swayed side to side and then spun in a circle which caused Louis to vomit over the side of her arm.

"Ms. Weasley, perhaps it would be best to stop shaking your child. His stomach seems to vehemently object to the motion." Lucius emptied his tumbler in a single swallow and stood. He was quite intent upon finding his wife.

"Oi, Malfoy, will you tell the other Malfoy that George and Penny have gone to the shop? George thought it would be a good idea to load up on some supplies. I think he's hoping to run into McGonagall again." Fred snatched Louis from Luna's arms, balancing Lucy and Louis carefully and kissed her temple.

"Anything to avoid any further instances of disgusting infant bodily functions."

* * *

George Weasley didn't bother to disguise himself before he Apparated to Diagon Alley with Penelope in tow. He wanted to be recognised. He wanted Harry Potter to know he wasn't afraid of him. He wanted Minerva McGonagall to hear of his nonchalant jaunt and pay him a visit.

Penelope wasn't as confident as her counterpart. She constantly smoothed her jet black waves and squeezed George's forearm with such strength he wondered where she'd kept it hidden. Her hazel eyes constantly flitted about, avoiding the curious gazes of the passersby.

"It's alright, love. We're almost there." George kept her close, more for her comfort than anything else and breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes just ahead.

"Why did I let you talk me into coming here?" Penelope gulped loudly, gathering her cloak tighter around her slight form.

She was exceedingly grateful she hadn't expanded greatly where her pregnancy was concerned. She was still anxious about her condition being discovered outside the confines of the Chateau. If anyone discovered who she was, it could spell a death sentence for George, which worried her more than anything.

"Peruvian Instant Darkness, I told you Pans. Ow, don't kick me. Why does Mrs. Malfoy get to call you that and I don't?" George hissed, resisting the urge to massage his aching shin.

"She didn't hex me when I had both hands stuffed into her girly parts delivery her son, therefore she's earned the right to call me whatever she wants."

"I wish I never asked. The imagery is going to plague me unto my dying breath." Penelope managed a small smile as she glanced up into his freckled face. "I love you, you know. I just…I wanted to tell you before…" George froze, his eyes widening at the sight behind her.

"Before what George?" Penelope blinked and he was struck by how pretty she truly is.

The freckles splattered across her nose had faded into nonexistence and the slight upturn to her nose had returned, giving her a small piece of Pansy Parkinson. He wished he had paid more attention to the subtle nuances.

"Fancy meeting you here George! It's been quite awhile yeah?" Penelope's knees buckled and she instantly buried her face into George's rigid chest, her palms sweating profusely from the onset of her panic.

"Yeah, it really has…hasn't it Harry?"


	14. Dead Man, Dead Man

**AN: People, people...we are drawing to a close. Be sure to thank .16 for the direction of this chapter, without her thought process, I can't even imagine how long it would have taken me to finish this chapter. I only gave it a once over so errors are a possibility. As always, thank you immensely for taking this journey with me. *kisses***

* * *

Chapter 14 – Dead Man, Dead Man

* * *

Harry Potter needed the feel of fresh air upon his pale face. He craved the sensation of a soft breeze and even to hear the clip of shoes upon cobblestone. He was tired of sitting on his proverbial throne, lavishing affection upon Balthazar and he was even tired of shagging the witch that happened to pass for Hermione Granger.

He had finally managed to wrangle the truth from a reluctant Yaxley. It appeared Harry had been shagging Tracey Davis. She wasn't a bad shag, in fact she was quite passionate when the mood struck her, but there was that air of innocence missing. He enjoyed the chase as much as anyone else and Tracey was entirely too willing. Even now, he was slightly disgusted by her constant mewing.

"Oh yes, right there, right there, don't stop."

Tracey Davis didn't care if she was forced to be Hermione Granger. She was quite the little sex addict. She purposely made mistakes in order to be punished. She did so love to be punished, so had always believed she deserved it, but lately Harry Potter was angrier than usual and it scared her more than she wanted to admit.

"Stop it, would you?" Tracey blinked her long lashes and bit her bottom lip, instinctively covering her bare breasts, knowing it would please Harry immensely.

"I-I'm sorry Harry." It was the breathy whisper which made his skin prickle with excitement.

For a moment, the haze cleared from his head and he stared at his surroundings in confusion and amazement.

'_Where the hell am I? What the hell am I doing? Hermione would never…I can't…'_

Tracey sat up quickly sensing the change and covered herself with the shawl she had tossed onto the small table beside the bed. She watched his internal struggle and she wasn't sure what she wished the outcome to be.

"W-who are you?" Harry grasped his head, staring at the golden brown curls tumbling down her shoulders.

"Tracey. Tracey Davis. It's alright. This doesn't last long, but if you have questions you should hurry and ask them." Tracey sat beside him, ever so careful not to touch him.

"I-I don't understand, what's going on?" Harry groaned, blinking his eyes rapidly.

"I'm sorry it has to be me to inform you, really I am. You were hit with a curse, by Yaxley. I don't know what curse, apparently no know ones. You went completely mental, attacked your wife, and became completely obsessed with Hermione Granger and not in a good way."

Harry's eyes flickered and Tracey knew he was remembering, remembering things he wished had never happened. His hands gripped the sheets and his breaths were coming out hard and fast. She resisted the urge to touch him, knowing the simple gesture could send him back into a fiery inferno of rage.

"I didn't hurt her, did I? Tell me I didn't hurt her…" Harry swallowed hard, fighting back the onslaught of guilt he didn't understand.

"Your wife and child have absconded to Scotland after a particularly bad night." Tracey was terribly nervous; he had never managed to fight his way to the surface for so long.

"Hermione, what about Hermione? Is she alright? She was my…she was my best friend, I don't think I could live with myself if…" Harry groaned, clenching in on himself as he fought against the hot searing pain of rage.

He wasn't angry. He didn't wish to be angry. The very idea that he had allowed himself to be so easily controlled by an erroneous spell made him feel ashamed, not angry. Harry's stomach rolled with revulsion. The flashing pictures intent upon showing him his past deeds made his head pound, but he concentrated on them just the same. He needed to know what he had done.

Harry didn't recall vomiting onto the cement floor, but he felt slightly better after expelling the contents of his stomach. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned to stare at Tracey. She reminded him of Hermione. It was her cascading golden brown curls and the deep honey hue of her eyes. She didn't hold herself the same and it was obvious she hadn't the confidence but her outward appearance was enough to keep him grounded.

"She's safe as far as I know. I assume her husband took her away considering…" Tracey shook her head quickly. She didn't want to suffer beneath the unholy infuriation of an altered Harry Potter, but if he asked about Hermione Granger's husband, she knew it would mean death.

"Husband…" Harry whispered while reaching toward her and clasped her hand in his. "I'm sorry, for some reason you keep me grounded. I can feel it, it's almost as if there's a raging river of fury in my veins and I hate it. She married Malfoy, didn't she?" Harry clutched Tracey's hand and she could feel the heat emanating from his sweat slicked skin.

"I don't wish to lie to you Harry. You're a smart bloke and quite honestly, I'm terrified that if I speak of it you'll revert back into the madness. I rather prefer you this way." Tracey gently squeezed the clammy hand in hers and sighed.

"It's alright, I'm not…I'm not angry. I mean, I'm trying not to be angry. Merlin, I've done…terrible, unforgivable things. I can't…I mean…how could I? She'll never forgive. I can't ever forgive myself. I'm a father and…and…" Tracey wasn't expecting Harry Potter to cry.

She expected the pulsating red light to return and muddle his green eyes until he was unrecognizable as the boy who had rescued wizarding kind from Voldemort. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and sobbed as if he were nothing more than an eleven year old boy locked in a cupboard.

"I've got to get out of here. Will you…will you help me? I know I'm asking a lot of you, considering the things I've done to you but I can't…I need to…"

"I know a way. We'll have to be careful. Yaxley keeps an incredibly close eye on you as it is, but it can be done. If you feel yourself slipping, you've got to let me know. I can't have you…"

"I know. I can't be around others if that happens. It's too dangerous for them. I've done enough."

Tracey stood from the bed as carefully as possible and slipped on the peasant blouse and tiered skirt lying on the chair against the weeping concrete wall. She handed Harry a pair of dark slacks and discarded the red polo. She didn't want to be reminded of the burning hue which had previously graced his eyes. She rummaged through a pile of wrinkled shirts and withdrew a tee shirt the exact shade of his true eyes. Harry didn't care what he wore as long as he could feel the fresh air upon his face just once more.

He allowed Tracey to grasp his hand and lead him down the darkened corridor, away from the boisterous voices and cackles of obnoxious laughter. She pressed him against a heavy wooden door, holding her finger to his lips. Harry held his breath; hiding in the shadows while half a dozen ragged wizards waltzed passed them. He focused on the sound of Tracey's breaths, instead of the rambling conversations and it helped him keep his head.

His first thought was to turn to Hermione. She would be able to unravel the mystery of his demise, until he remembered the unspeakable things he had done to her. His stomach rolled with another wave of revulsion and he held his breath, unwilling to expose their position.

Tracey Davis dragged Harry through the darkness, slipping into a small hidden room. She shoved the heavy door shut and hurried to the life size portrait hung on the furthest wall. Harry hung back, studying the weathered face as it glowered down at them.

"Don't mind him. He's unpleasant, even Lucius thought so which is saying quite a lot. It's his father, Abraxas. He was banished here when Draco was a child. Behind this portrait are the stairs that will lead us into Malfoy Manor. We'll need to be quick. I've never used this exit and I'm assuming the Manor will have numerous wards, but it's our only chance." Tracey heaved the gold frame away from the door, surprised by how easily it swung.

"Where are we going to go?" Harry Potter stepped forward tentatively, suddenly worried about the sudden exposure to the outside world.

"Diagon Alley. It's familiar territory and hopefully it won't upset you overly much. We'll have to return here, you know we will. Yaxley will have my head for this, but it'll be worth it if you're free."

"Why are you doing this for me? I don't deserve it."

Tracey Davis sighed and studied Harry's green eyes. She had fallen easily into being Harry Potter's whore for no other reason than she had nowhere else to go. Her family had been slaughtered in the Second Wizarding War, which was their own fault. She didn't harbour any animosity toward Harry or even the Order for their deaths. She had been gravely injured in a fight where she had been nothing more than an innocent bystander.

It had been the Order that had nursed her back to health when she hadn't believed she deserved it. She thanked them profusely and they had thought nothing of it. She'd never experienced that sort of kindness in all her years and she never forgot it. She gripped it tightly, even after she was told she'd never bear children. She held it even tighter after one of Yaxley's henchmen had snatched her off the street and turned her into a walking, talking, living doll.

Tracey knew she had always been a bit of a slag and if sleeping with Harry Potter meant that less than willing witches were free, then so be it. She had become addicted to the sensation, that much was true, but in the end, it was her selflessness that allowed Pansy Parkinson to escape. Tracey couldn't regret it. She had done one good thing in her life; it didn't matter if it was on the flat of her back.

"Everyone deserves a second chance."

"I don't."

"Maybe not, but you deserve to feel the sun on your face one last time." They clasped hands once more, slowing making their way up the winding staircase. Each wondering if it was the last day they'd draw breath.

* * *

"I can't believe they left without us." Draco Malfoy grumbled before bestowing a kiss upon his sleeping son's brow.

Hermione ignored her husband in favour of aiding Luna and Molly. The men had balked at the idea of accepting help from their spouses. They were accomplished wizards! Yet the women, being the astute wives they were, ignored them and packed the bags filled with Healing Potions.

"Narcissa has an impressive collection of Dittany, which would be life saving if any of you happened to splinch…"

"Granger, we're not going to bloody splinch. Do you really think we haven't the slightest idea how to Apparate to our own bloody house?"

"I'm just speaking of a worst case scenario. It's better to be prepared. You never know what kind of…"

"Hermione love, we'll be alright. I can't promise we're not going to be injured, but this is war I suppose." Draco stroked her hair while she reclined upon the chaise in the corner of their bedroom.

Carefully he lifted Jarek from Hermione's arms and rocked him for a moment. He hadn't known it was possible to love someone as much as he loved his son. He loved his wife, desperately he loved her but with his son it was different. It wasn't an all consuming passionate love, it was the parental sort and Draco knew he'd go to the ends of the earth to ensure his child's safety.

Draco placed his son in the bassinet beside their bed, tucking the light blanket all around Jarek before turning to his wife. Hermione was staring off into the distance and Draco knew she was running the multitude of scenarios through her head, seeking to thwart them at every turn.

"What's going to happen to us when this is all said and done?" Hermione chewed her fingernails to the nub, hiding behind her curls.

Draco was surprised by her question. It had never occurred to him to entertain the thought of their relationship. He didn't care how they had come together, it was a nonissue. He married her. He loved her. They had a child together, what the hell was she going on about?

"I don't know what you mean beyond the simple fact we'll be able to get the fuck out of here. That's a blessing in and of itself quite frankly. This is a beautiful Chateau, there's no doubt about that, but I'm ready to go home." Draco shifted Hermione's feet and sat, placing them in his lap.

"I don't…I don't really have a home now do I? My flat was completely demolished." Hermione's voice was small and he could hear an underlying trace of fear.

"Love, what are you going on about? We have a home. We have Willow Pond. We could purchase a new home if you like. I hadn't purchased it with family in mind. I would hate for you to dismantle that lovely library in order for Jarek to have a nursery. I suppose we could turn the guest room into a nursery but there's not a lot of room for expansion there. I think it would be nice to live somewhere new. Somewhere fresh and clean without the dark memories hovering over us, don't you think?" Draco massaged her calves while he spoke; studying the light furrow of her brow, wondering what was going through her deliciously busy mind.

"Do you think you would have married me if it weren't for Harry?" She still refused to look at him and it was quite infuriating, but for a moment he decided to entertain her thought patterns.

"Granger, your best mate is Declan Rosier who happens to be dating Theo Nott. My best mate is Blaise Zabini who married Daphne Greengrass. When you're friends with a Hufflepuff dating a Slytherin, surrounded by other Slytherins, it's only a matter of time before they play matchmaker, regardless of the circumstances. I snogged you against a wall in Diagon Alley. None of that had anything to do with Potter. Yeah, Granger, it might not have moved as quickly as it did, but eventually we'd be right where we are. I love you and if…if you are having second thoughts…"

"Stop. I'm not saying that. I was just having a moment. I was wondering where we would all be if it weren't for Harry. I can't help but wonder about him. He was such a huge part of my life." Draco couldn't bear the separation between them any longer and dragged her into his lap.

Hermione clung to him with a quiet desperation. Draco rested his chin upon the top of her head and sighed.

"You'd forgive him, wouldn't you? Damn your bleeding Gryffindor heart."

"No, I don't think I could. I mean, I'd try, of course I would try. If we discovered that Harry had been unduly influenced and he wasn't of his own mind, yes I would try. However, I truly believe I would fail in the matter. I don't think I could ever forget what he had done. It would be awkward and uncomfortable. I know that even trying to have some semblance of a relationship with Harry Potter would put a ridiculous strain on our marriage and eventually he'd just fade away from my life and I would let him. I would let him and I would breathe a sigh of relief." Draco tightened his arms around her in comfort more than lust.

"Then you'd feel guilty about it, because you're Hermione Granger and that's what you do."

"Hermione Malfoy."

"And don't you bloody forget it."

"As disgustingly touching that display of affection and love was, there are red haired wizards prepared to leave. " Lucius Malfoy smirked at his son and daughter-in-law, deciding there were worse things in the world than the diluting of the Malfoy line.

He peered into the bassinet, resisting the urge to finger the silky flaxen strands upon his grandson's head. He reflected upon when his son was a small child and even Hermione was shocked by the slightest smile dancing at the corners of Lucius Malfoy's lips.

"He really is a beautiful child." Lucius cleared his throat, unaccustomed to the lump which had formed, "we really mustn't tarry, between your mother and Molly it's a wonder we're not all black and blue."

* * *

"Fancy meeting you here George! It's been quite awhile yeah?" Penelope's knees buckled and she instantly buried her face into George's rigid chest, her palms sweating profusely from the onset of her panic.

"Yeah, it really has…hasn't it Harry?" George studied the familiar wizard with a wary eye, but saw not even a speck of malice.

"Listen, uhm, I hate to bother you, but I don't really know how much more time I have. It's really quite important. I mean, I understand if you don't wish to speak with me. I haven't exactly been a stellar member of society. I can't…I can't remember everything, but if I've done anything to you, I hate myself for it. I don't expect you to forgive me, but this needs to end." Harry Potter held his palms forward, his eyes filled with sincerity.

George Weasley looked to Penelope and was shocked to see her nodding slowly, glancing at the witch beside Harry. She motioned toward the closed door of the joke shop with trembling hands and determination.

Harry grasped Tracey's hand, for strength more than anything before walking into the dusty shop. He glanced upon the full shelves with wide eyes, unsure where to go. He was very careful to touch nothing as he didn't know what would set off another bout of rage. He could feel it, just beneath the surface, as if it was alive and it made him feel uneasy in his own skin.

"He's having a good day?" Penelope whispered in the musty silence, avoiding Harry at all costs.

"Yaxley was late returning this morning. I still maintain he slips something into the afternoon tea, but…yes; he's having a good day. He's really trying to control it. When the memories washed through him it was quite horrid." Tracey rubbed Harry's arm lightly as a shudder ran through him and shushed much like one would a babe in arms.

"Would someone care to explain what the bloody hell is going on then?" George pushed passed Harry and Tracey to lead them toward the back room. "We can have a chat in here."

Harry nodded and sunk into one of the many overstuffed, shabby green chairs shoved into the room. His first instinct was to yank Tracey into his lap, but he refrained. She seemed to know exactly what he needed and after sharing a small look with Penelope, climbed into Harry's lap.

"I'm dangerous. Part of me wants to say it isn't my fault, but it is to a certain extent." Harry began slowly, measuring each word before it passed his lips.

George kept his wand trained on his dead brother's friend, preparing for the worst. Penelope had stopped shaking, but she was obviously nervous and George didn't like, not one bit.

"I should have gone to Kingsley but I was arrogant. I thought I could handle it on my own, but I was wrong. When the whispers started I was afraid Voldemort was trying to come back and I didn't want to face that thought. I can't…I can't change it now. It's…it's too late for me, but you've got to stop Yaxley."

"Yaxley?" George practically shouted, thrusting his wand in Harry's face. "Everyone knows you're the one protecting him. You're the one going absolutely bonkers. You're the one that abducted Hermione and Declan and…"

"George, you've got to calm down. Look at his eyes." Penelope pulled on George's blue plaid shirt with sure fingers. "They're green, that brilliant green you've always known. When he's angry and quite honestly insane, they're a blazing red. Let him speak."

"Pansy? Is that…is that you?" Harry gasped hard with a strangled sob.

He didn't dare reach for her, instead studying the hazel brown eyes for the witch he once knew. He saw George's protective stance beside her and Pansy's hands drop to her slightly distended abdomen. Harry gagged on his own bile. He leaned forward just as the spittle spilled from between his lips to land upon his shoes.

"It's the memories. They make him physically ill. I'm sure you can imagine why." Tracey reached into her pocket and removed a battered handkerchief which she pressed into Harry's shaking hands.

"I'm so sorry Pansy. I'm so bloody sorry. Tracey told me it was you…after you escaped. I can't…fuck I'm going to be sick again." George raced through the backroom to the shop and came back with a metal basin.

Harry heaved until there was nothing left within him. His sorrow was almost palpable and George despised that he felt anything akin to pity for the likes of Harry Potter.

"What do you want us to do then?" George snarled.

He didn't want to hate Harry Potter but he didn't see how he could feel anything else. Quite honestly he wanted to rip the wizard limb from limb or at least hex him until his arms fell off. Instead, George continued to glower, silently seething while Penelope attempted to placate him.

She stroked his arms, held his hand and kissed his brow, but George remained incredibly tense. She didn't have the answers, but if there was even the slightest chance that the madness could be ended, she felt they should do whatever's necessary. Penelope always had a short fuse, even when she flaunting the fact she was Pansy Parkinson in every available face.

"George Weasley you will give him the benefit of the doubt, do you hear me?!" Penny stamped her foot with irritation and George looked significantly abashed.

"Please, don't yell. I know it's second nature and I'm not denying you your right to be angry, it's just…" Tracey hovered nervously over Harry, smoothing his forehead with the dampened corner of her skirt.

"I'm not bloody apologising." Penelope huffed, glaring at The Boy Who Puked and his trusty sidekick.

"Tracey, it's fine. I deserve it. You should…you should bring them to the Manor. If you brought me out, I'm sure you could bring them in. Th-they'd never suspect it. They could catch Yaxley and end this." Harry dry heaved and Tracey rubbed his back until he lifted his head and locked eyes with George.

"What about you then?" Harry was intrigued by the interaction between George and Pansy, but he wasn't about to pry. He contemplated the answer to such a question with dry eyes.

He knew he had wrecked enough havoc upon her life and while he was incapable of remembering every single moment, Harry remembered just enough to fill him with self loathing. George was a good man and it seemed he cared for Pansy quite a lot. It didn't matter what she called herself or even what she looked like. Their connection was deeper than that.

Harry had a horrible sinking feeling the child she was so desperate to hide from his prying eyes was his, but he'd rather not know. It was better that way, better for all of them. For a moment, Harry's thoughts flickered to Cho and his son James. His heart clenched and his hands began to shake while he was thrown into the remnants of a horrific nightmare.

"First, tell me I didn't hurt Cho or…or…" As hard as he tried, Harry couldn't make himself speak his son's name.

"You scared her a bit, I'll give you that. Shacklebolt granted her a divorce and she left the country. It's probably best for them that way. The Ministry has managed to keep everything quiet for the most part. There's something in the air though and we can all feel it. Think of it this way…Harry, James will never know. I'll do that much for you." George nodded slowly and a silent understanding spread between the two wizards.

"You're going to do something reckless, aren't you?" Tracey finally asked, unable to bear the silence any further.

Harry Potter began laughing. He couldn't begin to explain how he felt. Tracey's words, the furrow of her brow, even her stance, reminded him of Hermione. It was exactly something Hermione would say before going off on a ridiculous long diatribe, berating his recklessness as if it were an old habit. And it was. It was an old, delicious habit, especially when faced with the loss of those he loved most.

He took a few moments, while attempting to quell his tears to remember the reckless moments of his life. It was easy for him to recount them; they had become part of him, the best parts of him. Harry remembered confronting Professor Quirinus Quirrell first year, amazed by the feel of the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket and the absolute magical way the bastard had exploded in a screaming haze. He recalled the confrontation with the Basilisk and speaking with a young Tom Riddle. His fondest moments were the ones spent with his godfather, Sirius Black, regardless of the fact he believed him to be a criminal. He reveled in the adrenaline required for the TriWizard Tournament and even facing Voldemort at the very end was completely out of his control and could hardly be deemed reckless.

Harry's breaths were coming in short gasps upon immersing himself in the memories of Dolores Umbridge and the hatred he felt for her. He decided it was best to avoid anything related to anger until finally he was floating along in his last stand. He wasn't afraid when he walked through the forest toward the final confrontation. It had been difficult to come to terms with the idea of his being an inadvertent horcrux. He knew he would have to die in order for there to ever be peace and he welcomed it. Harry Potter had welcomed death with open arms.

He had lived a hard life. His childhood was less than stellar, even after discovering his magical ability. It had improved slightly if only for a little while, but the idea that he would no longer have to fight simply for the right to live was appealing. Harry was comforted by the idea of seeing his loved ones again. The parents he had never truly known, his godfather, who would always hold a special place in his heart and the many other fallen witches and wizards who had lost their lives to protect his, gave him strength.

Harry had soon learned that despite all his efforts, death is not the end. For the slightest flicker of a moment, he was disappointed to discover he still drew breath. He was looking forward to a peaceful slumber, but it wasn't meant to be.

However, this time was different. Harry knew it and he was aware that George knew it as well. So yes, he supposed he was being reckless, but it was for the greater good. If there was one thing Harry Potter knew well, it was the price of sacrifice for the greater good and this time, death would be the end.

"What about you then?" George prodded and Harry knew this was the moment.

This was the moment where he could accept his fate or turn from it and allow himself to fall into a never ending black hole of destruction. Harry Potter could never allow such a thing to happen.

"George, you and I both know there isn't a single scenario where I walk away from this."


	15. Handle with Care

**AN: For reasons unknown I struggled with this chapter, so thanks for bearing with me. There are probably errors so don't string me up too high.  
As this fic draws to a close, I thank you taking this particular journey with me. Not to worry, this isn't the last chapter...perhaps one more and then the epilogue...we'll see how it goes I suppose.**

**As always *kisses***

* * *

Chapter 15 – Handle with Care

* * *

"Stupefy!"

"Wait! You don't need to…"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Stop it!

"Incarcerous!"

"Please don't, you're hurting him!"

"I believe that's the point Ms. Davis." Headmistress McGonagall adjusted the pointed hat on her head. Her half moon spectacles sat on the edge of her nose as she glowered at the small collection of witches and wizards. "Would you mind explaining what on earth is going on here?"

Tracey Davis was on the dusty floor, covering an incapacitated Harry Potter with her body. Minerva McGonagall wasn't able to discern the whispered words streaming from the witch and turned to George. George had maneuvered himself between Harry Potter and Penelope, his wand drawn obviously prepared to duel the intruder. He hadn't managed to lower it before McGonagall was clucking at him like a mother hen.

"You really shouldn't have done that." George finally whispered, glancing quickly at Tracey.

Tracey was still whispering to Harry, stroking his arm and even kissing his brow which confused the older witch to no end. Headmistress McGonagall had burst into Weasley Wizard Wheezes under the pretence of saving them from a dangerous Harry Potter. She had peered into the windows and seen him sitting there without a care in the world. She had honestly believed him to be holding them hostage or at the very least threatening their lives with death and mayhem. She certainly wasn't expecting the quiet rebuke from one of the twins.

"Whatever do you mean? This is Harry Potter. He's been harassing…" McGonagall sputtered, stopping instantly when George raised his hand.

"He's been trying to help. He knows he's been struck with a curse. He knows the depraved things he's done. He wants to us end it. I don't know if that's possible now. We've been working together to keep him calm. If he remains calm, he can manage to keep control of his faculties. I do believe you've fucked that right off." George crossed his freckled arms while Penelope peeked over his arms, glaring at her former Professor.

"George! He's waking and…" Tracey sobbed, clutching the lapel of Harry's blazer, shaking him but it was no use. His eyes blazed red, flickering between rage and sanity.

"You've got to get out of here." Harry gasped, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. His breaths were laboured and his limbs began to shake from the effort required to retain his thin grasp of reality. "I don't know how much longer I can hold out. George, GET THEM OUT OF HERE NOW!" Harry bellowed, the walls of the joke shop shuddering with strain.

His magical bindings burst, instantly freeing him and even the formidable Minerva McGonagall had enough sense to retreat from the red-eyed wizard. She rushed forward and in a moment of clarity and held tightly to George and Penelope before Apparating them away.

* * *

"Remind me why we thought Hogwarts was the best place to do this?" Draco grumbled while awkwardly patting his son's bottom. The nonstop chatter of excited students seemed to upset the tot more than the jostle of his perturbed father.

Hermione rolled her eyes, not for the first time that day and gestured toward the door to their temporary quarters. She wasn't exactly pleased to be back at her Alma Mater, but it really was the best course of action. With George and Penelope Merlin knows where, if they had been captured or even compromised, the Chateau was no longer the safest place for them.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had instructed Headmistress McGonagall to aid them to the best of her ability and while she was currently away from the castle, the Professors had quickly rallied around them. Hermione had to admit the Ministry really had done a superb job keeping Harry Potter's mental demise from the public, but there were whispers and speculation stemming from the students despite the Professors best efforts. She didn't expect anything less. Hermione remembered quite well being an inquisitive student and eavesdropping on conversations she knew she shouldn't have. It seemed some things really didn't change, which was somewhat comforting.

Lucius and Draco on the other hand, were downright abominable as neither wished to return to the place of their greatest shame. Hermione could understand their reluctance but there were bigger things at stake than their egos. She wished nothing more than the ability to lie down and cradle her son, but Draco needed to hold Jarek. It was the only thing keeping him sane and she understood it. She was quite thankful they hadn't been stuck in the dungeons. Hermione imagined it would have been worse for him then and she wouldn't wish that upon him.

As they stepped through the portrait hole, Hermione was vaguely aware of raised voices which sounded eerily like George and Penelope. It would have been a miracle if they had arrived at Hogwarts in one piece, and she quite liked the idea of something, anything, going their way.

Draco flicked his wand and their trunks smashed into the far wall with a loud bang, startling Jarek to tears. He sighed, adjusting the baby in his arms, lovingly shushing him back to sleep before glowering in the direction of angry voices.

"Draco, set him in the bassinet and have yourself a drink. I wouldn't normally condone such behaviour but I honestly believe under the circumstances it's necessary for both of us." Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"I can't believe we're back here, of all places we could hole up." Draco begrudgingly set his son down, wrapping him tightly in the blue fleece blanket before taking his wife's advice.

It unnerved him to be in Hogwarts and he detested showing weakness, especially now. He felt as though he should be doing something useful, charging into the fray, beating down the doors of Malfoy Manor to eradicate the threat to his family's wellbeing. Instead he was within the cold stone walls of his childhood. The place where he had betrayed wizarding kind out of cowardice and he despised the feelings of self-loathing it evoked.

"I believe George and McGonagall are arguing just down the corridor. Have yourself another drink; I'll be back in a moment." Hermione kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand before stepping through the portrait.

The angry voices carried and the corridors were quickly filling with curious students which definitely was not to their advantage. Hermione could just imagine an ambitious seventh year or even a sixth year deciding it was in their best interest to offer their services. Without waiting a moment, she quickly cast a Silencing Charm and dispersed the students with a glower. It seemed there were still moments when her celebrity came in particularly handy.

"Madness, absolute madness, you have no idea what he's capable of doing to you and you thought it would be a brilliant idea to sit with him over a cup of tea? I taught you better than that!" Minerva McGonagall screeched at an obviously apathetic George Weasley who did nothing more than shrug in her general direction.

"Oi, Hermione do you think we should just let them at it? George never did have much respect for authority." Fred dropped his arm over her shoulders with an easy smile.

Hermione couldn't help but smile back, which she still felt was inappropriate considering the circumstances. Headmistress McGonagall continued to shout at George and from the looks of it, he was giving as good as he got.

"Let's give them another minute. It looks as though Penelope's had about enough of the both of them. I wonder how they got here."

"McGonagall brought them. I caught bits and pieces when they first arrived. You were distracted with an angry ferret. It seems my less handsome brother took it upon himself to visit our shop. I suppose it wasn't the worst idea he's ever had, but I can't help but wonder if he has less brain cells due to the whole missing ear…"

"What on earth does his ear have to do with brain cells Fred?" Hermione cringed, knowing she was going to regret asking in the first place.

"Well, he has a tendency to sleep on the gaping hole. You don't know, his brain could decide it's the only way out." Fred tickled her side with a wink while Hermione shook her head. She knew she shouldn't have expected anything different.

Hermione flicked her wand, removing the Silencing Charm and walked toward the angry trio. McGonagall glowered at her, her thin lips pressed together in silent rage. George on the other hand, smiled brightly and tossed his twin a parcel.

"Peruvian Instant Darkness! Wicked!" Fred laughed with glee, hugging the parcel against his chest.

"Yeah we're going to need it. I hope the storeroom has enough Polyjuice, there's no bloody way we've got a month to brew it. McGonagall here pissed off Potter and knowing him, we haven't got much time. He's always been headstrong and if Hogwarts was our first inclination, it's probably his as well." George snarled at his former Professor, no longer feeling the need to remain cordial despite his surroundings.

"You've spoken with him? Are you bloody barmy? Do you know what could have happened to you?" Fred shouted at his twin and Hermione was prepared to Silence them when Penelope stepped forward.

"He came to us. He was in his right mind for a bit. We had a bit of a chat and he wants us to end this. He's not capable of doing it himself. We watched him be sick multiple times over the things he's done. Yaxley really did a number on him. I think if we concentrate our efforts on Yaxley, we might actually have a shot at saving Potter." Penelope Parks held George's hand firmly in her own, keeping him close to her side.

It was blatantly clear he wished nothing more than to stomp down the corridor as far from McGonagall as humanly possible, but Penelope wasn't budging. She understood them both, which surprised her as much as anyone. Minerva McGonagall's first thought was to protect as many witches and wizards as was humanly possible. George Weasley's first inclination was to rid the world of the man who had forced them into hiding and wrecked havoc in all their lives.

"George, she only wishes to protect her students and even us if possible. Professor McGonagall, they've been in hiding for months upon months due to Harry Potter's altered state, surely you can understand his driving need to end this. I'm sure none of us wish for there to be bloodshed, but at this point it's really inevitable isn't it? We've got to work together if we have the slightest chance. We've all fought in a war before, we know how this goes."

Hermione Malfoy was utterly and completely speechless, which shocked her more than anything. Penelope made valid, impassioned points which could not be refuted by any of them. It was more than she had been able to accomplish and she was quite impressed.

"An angry Harry is a careless Harry. He'll come here. It's the first place he ever deemed his true home. Despite his altered state, there are some things even the best of magic can't erase. We've got to move fast, I don't expect he'll waste much time." Hermione ignored the barest hint of a smile on Headmistress McGonagall's lips and began directing their small group toward the dungeons.

It seemed Draco Malfoy's day was about to become worse as his wife rushed through the portrait and demanded his presence in the Potions classroom. He allowed himself to be dragged down to the bane of his existence, silently despising leaving Jarek behind. It didn't matter that their son was in the more than capable hands of Luna Lovegood, Draco felt better when the child was with them.

He knew everything was drawing to a close, but that wasn't what worried him. It was his stubborn, know-it-all wife which presented the most angst. Draco believed she would rush into the fray, put herself in harm's way and perhaps jeopardize everything in order to minimize the casualties. He didn't blame her, he couldn't, Harry Potter had once been her very best friend. She wouldn't be the woman he loved, the Gryffindor he despised or anything else for that matter if she wasn't attempting to save lives, even if it was to her own detriment. Draco could see the wheels spinning, the thoughts spiraling out of control while she laid out the vials of Polyjuice Potion.

"I know you're scheming Granger and I won't have it." Draco whisked her into a darkened corner by the waist, hissing in her ear.

"You can't expect me to sit idly by as my family and my friends put themselves in mortal danger for me." Hermione shoved against his chest, struggling in his iron grip.

"That's exactly what I expect you to do you silly witch. You gave me your word. What the bloody hell good is the word of a Gryffindor if they fucking lie? It's very Slytherin of you and while I'll gladly applaud your cunning at another time, I'll fucking leave you bound in a broom closet before I watch you set foot out of this castle."

"You're being ridiculous!"

"You're being a selfish little bint aren't you? You are my family. I've already told you I'm a selfish bastard and it's not going to change any time soon. I married you to protect you; at least that's how it started. I fucking love you and if one of us going to walk into the fray, it's going to be me." Draco shook her then, harder than he intended, his fingers digging into her shoulders before George dragged him away and Fred comforted a distraught Hermione.

His first inclination was to shove off the freckled bastard, until he saw the look of horror upon Hermione's face. Draco immediately dropped his arms and allowed George to yank him from the Potions classroom. He realised then, Hermione had never truly witnessed his uncompromising anger and it had never once been directed at her, until then. He had scared her, terrified her actually and the guilt worked its way up his body until he was gagging on the bile.

"You know better, Malfoy. You know better than any of us, you can't order Hermione about. It just makes her more determined to forge ahead." George pushed him into the rough store wall hard.

His hand wedged against Draco's chest to keep him in place. George was used to such antics having grown up with a volatile younger brother. He understood the way the rage could take over and made it difficult to see reason. George however, did not wish to see Draco Malfoy go the same way as his brother. He didn't imagine Hermione could ever recover from a loss such as that.

"How do I get her to stay behind then? It seems you think you have all the bloody answers." Draco snapped at the older wizard angrily, most willing to unleash his rage upon him.

"You don't, stupid. Fred promises her he'll watch over you and I promise you, I'll watch over her. It's not perfect but you can't honestly believe we'd let anything happen to Hermione. Never mind the fact if anything were to happen to you, she'd string us up by our bollocks."

"I never thought the day would come where I willingly placed my life in the hands of a Weasley." Draco groaned, thumping the back of his head against the wall.

"Aren't you glad I have two hands then?" George wiggled his eyebrows before abruptly releasing the blond to jaunt back to the Potions classroom.

"I swear, one of these days I'm going to cut off his other bloody ear."

* * *

"You know George, I bet if we timed this perfectly we could catch Malfoy and Malfoy in the throes of a love fest. Imagine their surprise…"

"…when they see Hermione burst into the room…"

"…when she's already there."

"You do realise this isn't the time to have a bit of a fun. We're supposed to be very serious and prepare for a wicked good battle with Death Eaters."

"Yes, yes but it isn't as if we haven't done it before…"

"…and it does afford us the opportunity to have a glance at her breasts…"

Fred and George Weasley exchanged bright smiles and quickly swallowed the thick concoction.

"Essence of Granger is particularly revolting…"

"…yeah but not nearly as bad as Potter's." George began gagging first as he shrunk from a tall freckled ginger into a petite, wildly curly haired brunette. Fred quickly followed amid George's guffaws as his clothing was ridiculously large. Of course neither was concerned with such things as they immediately pulled open their shirts to glance upon their new, yet temporary breasts.

"Not bad." They spoke in unison as they often did, and grinned before hefting their breasts in their now small hands.

"No wonder the Malfoys are constantly shagging." George mused before magically altering his beige pants and red plaid shirt. "Come on then, we need to get a move on if we're going to catch them."

Later of course, they lamented their decision, their faces extraordinarily pale with a delightful green hue. They shot daggers at the Malfoys while they desperately clutched their stomachs and covered the breasts which no longer existed.

"It serves you right boys; you bloody well know it does." Molly huffed in exasperation, resisting the urge to smack them about the head as it seemed they'd suffered enough.

Lucius really did attempt to sniff in derision, yet once Arthur began to snicker, all hopes were lost. He covered his mouth quickly so as not to be on the receiving end of his wife's ire yet Arthur had no such qualms.

"Your mother is right boys. You're quite lucky Malfoy uh junior there didn't do much more than…"

"FATHER!" Fred and George shouted together, covering their ears. Rather, Fred covered both his ears and George covered one, using his free hand to cover his eyes as well.

"It serves you right." Draco looked a bit worse for wear, but not nearly as ill as the twins.

He continuously wiped his mouth and it seemed he had quite the aversion to looking upon his wife. Hermione's knowing glance told the story with the smirk which danced about the corner of her lips.

She and Draco were in the midst of a particularly heavy snog session when she heard the gentle tap upon the door. Draco was not the least bit agreeable to the interruption, but it seemed when it came to his young son, he'd willingly suffer the effects of a raging erection in favour of Hermione feeding Jarek.

A few moments later, Hermione burst through the portrait. Draco was more concerned with her state of undress than he was in what she was actually wearing. Fred had taken to lamenting quite loudly over Draco's lack of attention to detail. Nary a moment after later, she was pinned to the wall, her shirt removed and her husband was paying particular voracious attention to her pert breasts.

It wasn't until Hermione actually burst into the room did Draco discover he was molesting a most unwilling Fred, while George he deduced quickly was pointing and howling with laughter. Hermione immediately sought out Molly, deciding the matriarch of the Weasley family was her best bet for doling out punishment.

"In all fairness Fred you did…" Arthur began, his face alight with glee.

"He molested me."

"Fred, you had breasts."

"Oi! George had them as well and he wasn't molested!" Fred covered his now flat chest, glaring at the younger Malfoy in misplaced rage.

"I've never been more thankful to be late in my entire life." George shuddered, rubbing his eyes as if he were trying to scrub the images from burning the insides of his eyelids.

"Some brother you are." Fred scoffed, silently cursing the lot of them.

"I see the Weasley twins are still making trouble no matter where they may go. I was never able to understand how you managed, Molly." Minerva McGonagall pursed her thin lips while shaking her pointy hat clad head.

"Merlin only knows Minerva." Molly sighed heavily, greatly perturbed with her sons. She was quite used to their antics yet their timing left something to be desired, as always.

"While this might prove to be amusing, I thought you'd be interested to learn there was quite a few Death Eaters near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I'm assuming Harry Potter will arrive shortly. You might wish to gather your necessary supplies. I've sent the majority of the students to the dungeons for safety." McGonagall arched a thin wispy eyebrow at the unlikely group and swept from the room without a backward glance. She never was once to mince words.

"This is all your fault." Fred huffed and gave his twin a shove.

"My fault?! You're the one that wanted to burst in on the Malfoys!" George shouted angrily and shoved his brother as well.

"Yeah well you wanted to see her breasts!"

"You did as well! They're quite lovely!"

It soon became quite a shoving match and their conversation was lost amidst the scraping of feet and struggles against the other. Draco slid his arms around his wife's waist and rested his chin upon her shoulder.

"They're not wrong love." He whispered against her throat, kissing her softly.

"I can't believe you snogged Fred, horny bastard."

"They were your lips and your breasts. You can't possibly be angry with me for it." Draco held her tight, unwilling to release her, despite Hermione's half hearted struggles.

"You do realise Fred is sporting a love bite…"

Fred and George immediately stopped scuffling with each other and looked at the Malfoys in horror. George yanked on the collar of Fred's shirt, his face scrunched in distaste. He poked the newly formed bruise and resisted the urge to snicker at his twin's bad luck.

"Oi, come on you wankers!" Blaise Zabini's voice stemming from a tiny Hermione Malfoy was enough to make any wizard scream, though it caused quite a flurry of emotion from the twins.

"Cover your breasts!"

"Malfoy will molest you!"

Blaise glanced down at his button down shirt with a frown, confused by the twin's terrified shouts. He caught the blush upon Hermione's cheeks and Draco's smirk and shrugged. Arthur and Molly shook their heads and pushed passed Blaise in order to make their way toward the Potions classroom.

"Tracey Davis is here. At least I think it's her, she looks sort of like…well Granger, but no matter. There are whispers that Yaxley is here as well. I've been sent to tell you lot to take your Polyjuice. Daphne's with Luna, they've got the tots holed up in the Room of Hidden Things. I expect they're waiting for you Granger." Blaise spun on his heel, stopping short upon feeling the long curls bounce across his back. "This is bloody weird." He mumbled to himself before rushing away.

"Granger." Draco whispered against his wife's ear, still holding her tight.

He detested the fight they were about to walk into. He knew it was necessary and he also knew Hermione was apt to do whatever she wished rather than listen to reason. Using his forefinger he closed her gaping mouth before she prattle on with all the many reasons she should rush into the fray.

"I'm not going to tell you to stay behind. Don't get me wrong or anything, I fervently wish you would, but I also know you're bloody Hermione Granger and you do what you like. I'd prefer if our son had one parent stay behind. I don't relish the idea of creating another Teddy Lupin." Hermione cringed with a pang of guilt upon remembering Remus and Tonk's untimely demise.

She knew then she would stay behind. She wanted to go up against Harry. She wanted to fight. She wanted to hex those blasted Death Eaters into oblivion. She wanted to see the red fire ebb from Harry Potter's eyes and know they had won. She also knew she wouldn't, for the sake of her son. There were enough orphans in the world and she couldn't in good conscience risk Jarek being another.

"You're right." Hermione whispered. Draco froze swearing his mind was playing tricks on him until she repeated it, louder. "It was different then, Voldemort was this all encompassing force of evil and Harry, well Harry isn't but there's always a chance isn't there? There's a chance it won't work and with the number of followers he has, something could happen to us. You're right. I'll stay here, in the castle. I'm not hiding in the bloody Room of Requirement so you can get that notion right out of your head. I'll stay out of sight, but I want to watch, I need to watch." He knew she hated the idea of staying behind, but he breathed a sigh of relief.

"I suppose that's more than I could ever hope for. My wife said I was right. This is a day that will go down in the history books." Draco smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

They both knew at the first sign of trouble…if she thought for one moment they were floundering, she'd be the first one through the castle doors hexing her way to Harry Potter. Merlin help him then.

* * *

Harry Potter allowed himself to be lulled by the angry chatter of conversation surrounding him. He couldn't care less about any of it. His red-rimmed green eyes were firmly set on Tracey Davis. He knew she wasn't Hermione and when he concentrated he could see the differences. She was hovering and he didn't mind. It was nice to allow someone to take care of him. Anything was better than listening to Yaxley rage against…well, everything.

It had been the chance meeting with George and Pansy that had done it. He was sure of it. Harry had known the witch hiding behind George was Pansy Parkinson, despite her appearance the offered name. He knew he hadn't a chance of escaping his fate, if only because he was bound to Yaxley. He was determined to discover how such a thing had happened, but Yaxley was a cunning bastard. He told Harry just enough to pique his interest, yet not enough to free himself.

"_Don't you trust me Potter?" Yaxley leered, his stringy hair swinging in his withered face._

"_Not particularly." Harry offered a half shrug, rebelling against the magic freely flowing between their tightly clasped hands._

_Harry couldn't help but wince, not from the strength of the wizard, but from the dark magic forcing its way into his very being. He surmised they were somehow bound, probably from some sort of vicious wandless magic, but he was determined to fight it. Quite honestly he felt quite apathetic toward everything but he severely disliked his choices being stripped. He might never be The Golden One ever again, but it didn't matter. He didn't care if he was revered by the wizarding world or despised; he simply wished to be able to breathe._

"_Such a shame, Potter. If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing more than another remnant of the Dark Lord's fall. Don't you think you deserve more than that?" Yaxley practically purred and it took every ounce of Harry's waning self control to keep from shoving the wizard._

"_No actually, I don't. I had a good life. I had a wife and a child and I loved them, but you completely fucked that for me now didn't you? I don't understand why you needed me, absolutely ridiculous." Harry wrenched his hand from Yaxley's and gripped his hand tightly._

"_Who was going to follow me when there was Harry Potter still about? It was so easy; you haven't the slightest idea do you? It was a little spell of my own making. Rodolphus suggested it, but he never had the constitution to bring his ideas to fruition. You understand of course, Bellatrix adored the Dark Lord, her husband on the other hand…" Yaxley shrugged indifferently. _

"_What was it? Tell me then, what does it matter? You've achieved your goal haven't you?" Harry was careful to shield his innermost thoughts, suspecting Yaxley was quite gifted with Legilimency._

"_Achieved my goal…are you daft? You've managed to terrify a single witch. Wouldn't it be thrilling to terrify the world?" Yaxley sucked the air between his teeth and Harry swore the bastard was salivating at the idea._

"_We're speaking in circles, Yaxley. I'm bored with you now." Harry sighed dramatically, forcing his eyes into slits in order to furtively observe Yaxley's face contort with rage._

"_Bored, you're bored with me, how fucking dare you? You blithering little piece of shit wizard. You didn't even realise I cast the fucking spell did you? You were so concerned with being reckless; you didn't see Rodolphus hex you. I couldn't believe my luck. The great Harry Potter brought down by his own pride. You were conscious but let's face it you were distracted and a bit out of it, if I had to say so myself. I didn't even have to raise my wand. A simple incantation, made it up myself. I tested it first of course, but I wasn't able to resist afflicting you. 'Da Mihi Obvius, Inquam, o facere'. You don't have the slightest idea what that even means do you Potter?" Harry resisted the urge to wipe the spittle from his cheek. "Grant me access. I say, you do. As simple as that, I couldn't believe my luck. I disposed of Rodolphus of course, after he whipped up a delightful concoction. I don't know how he did it quite honestly and I never cared to find out. You never noticed. It seems The Boy Who Lived is a fucking halfwit."_

"_Oh please, do tell me the many ways I've managed to fail you, Yaxley. I can barely contain my excitement." Harry faux yawned, focusing on Tracey's small smile across the damp dungeon._

"_A few drops of Potion in your afternoon tea and you belong to me. I don't have to gather the Death Eaters, you do it for me. Though, I wasn't counting on your obsession with that fucking Mudblood. I still can't understand it. You're supposed to channel my rage, but you cling to that piece of filth as if she were your lifeline."_

_Harry stopped listening at that point. He realised Yaxley had a point. He wasn't obsessed with Hermione because he loved her; it was his subconscious breaking through the power of the Dark Magic. Harry Potter had always relied upon Hermione Granger to rescue him from whatever mess he'd thrust upon himself and she had, she always had. He was furious with himself for not coming to the realization sooner, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Harry Potter had resigned himself to die and Hermione Granger was still the witch who could set him free from the madness._

"Yaxley, let's go to Hogwarts. It would be fitting don't you think? I mean, I'm sure the witches and wizard who could pose a problem for us are holed up there. I honestly believing igniting the next wizarding war in the place where the Dark Lord fell is poetic justice." Harry swallowed hard, struggling to keep his revulsion firmly tamped down.

Yaxley eyed him curiously, with the slightest hint of suspicion, but Harry leered at Tracey until she blushed. She crossed the slick concrete floor ever so slowly when he inclined his fingers, knowing Yaxley was studying their exchange. Tracey perched upon Harry's knee, careful to keep her back straight and eyes downcast, just as she had been instructed. There was no need for Yaxley to become aware of the subtle changes in his puppet.

"That's actually quite a delightful idea, Mr. Potter." Yaxley sneered. He despised showing the slightest modicum of respect for his puppet, but it was necessary to keep up appearances.

"Glad you approve." Tracey stiffened in his arms, yet released a quiet breath upon the feel of Harry lightly squeezing her hand.

She closed her eyes, thankful he was hanging on to the bare vestiges of his sanity despite Yaxley's possessiveness. She had been terrified after Harry had reverted after being on the receiving end of an angry Professor McGonagall. He had quickly regained his senses, but in the presence of Yaxley, Tracey well knew anything was possible.

Yaxley smiled nastily and spoke into Harry's ear. Tracey's heart clenched in her chest with instant fear upon hearing his hissing words and she captured Harry's hand with a vise grip.

"Perhaps you'd care for a spot of tea."


	16. Death is not the End

**Disclaimer: As previously stated all characters belong to JK Rowling and the song lyrics to Death is not the End belong to whoever wrote that song but Bob Dylan sang it so he can own some too.**

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**AN: It's been forever. I didn't realise how long it's been, sorry about that cuz life.  
This chapter is here because I promised Ashley...lol.  
Also. It's mah anniversary so you're lucky it's here at all...ha.  
AND! I didn't edit it.  
There might be errors.  
You won't die.  
Promise.**

**This is the last chapter before the Epilogue. If there are any glaring questions I haven't answered...please let me know cuz it'll annoy me to have dangling bits. -that sounded much dirtier than it should.**

**Thanx for reading! *kisses***

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Chapter 16 – Death is not the End

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Hermione braced herself in the window intent upon seeing the raging fight below, but her height interfered with her intentions. She smothered a small growl as a group of first years scurried past her on their way to the dungeons and squinted into the waning light. She couldn't help but to grimace as she caught sight of a flock of Hermione Granger's and she wondered if her hair had always looked so abysmal.

Her fingers twitched, aching for the feel of her wand but she had promised. She detested her promise. She despised staying behind, but Jarek's coo from the basket at her feet calmed her slightly. Hermione nudged the basket with her foot, lulling the child back to sleep her eyes never leaving the scene below her.

She'd never backed from a true fight before. Even during the Second Wizarding War she had been quick to offer her services in any way the Order deemed necessary. She discovered she didn't much like remaining on the sidelines, no matter the reason. For a moment, Hermione resented the small child sucking his fist. She knew it wasn't his fault he had been born into such a disastrous situation, but part of her felt if it weren't for him she could be fighting.

Hermione quickly shoved the thought from her mind and bent to pick up her son. She hugged him tightly and kissed his brow. She wrapped him tightly in his blue paisley blanket and decided enough was enough.

Harry was never going to truly harm her now that he knew he was under the effects of a particularly nasty curse. Hermione couldn't idly stand by and simply watch. She was a witch of action and her circumstances hadn't changed that part of her no matter how much her husband wished it to be so.

"Ms. Granger, I know what you're thinking. I do not believe it to be in your best interest to venture toward the battlefield. You have responsibilities now and I do believe your _husband_ is more than capable." Headmistress Minerva McGonagall glowered at her best and brightest student, stopping her progression toward the dungeons.

"I-I thought you'd be out there as well." Hermione stuttered, clutching the basket to her chest

"Ms. Granger, you know I must see to the safety of my students before anything else. The last of the first years have been secured and I believed it wise to see to your state of mind before lending aid." Hermione swallowed heavily, fearfully glancing into the twinkling eyes of her former teacher.

"I can't do…nothing…"

"I'm well aware of your penchant for trouble Ms. Granger. It seems Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter had rubbed off on you just a bit wouldn't you say? Come along then, we'll see your son in the capable hands of Ms. Lovegood before we set out to the grounds."

Hermione followed the quickly clipping shoes down the stairs into the bowels of the dungeon. She'd never felt particular comfortable in this part of the Hogwarts castle, but these were extenuating circumstances. She suppressed the shudder of revulsion and followed McGonagall through the nearest portrait.

"You're not going to forbid me from going?" Hermione chanced a glance at the Headmistress while she pressed her son into the eager arms of Penelope Parks.

"You might have been my very best student but you were also incredibly headstrong. If I thought a word from me might convince you to remain behind, I would say it. However, Ms. Granger we both know better don't we?" Minerva adjusted her pointed hat with the barest hint of a smile.

"Why do you call her Ms. Granger when you bloody well know she's Mrs. Malfoy?" Penelope glowered with distaste. It seemed she was quite offended by her former Professors choice of words.

"Oh yes, Ms. Parkinson. Far be it from me to forget your presence in the castle." Minerva's lips were pressed into a thin hard line and Hermione knew the witch was disgruntled by the former Slytherin.

"Headmistress…" Hermione began to intercede only to see Penelope's hazel eyes flash with rage laced with hurt.

"I'm not that witch anymore and I'd appreciate it if you were to remember my name. Considering you are the Headmistress of Hogwarts it shouldn't be too difficult a task for you. Hermione, I'm going to set Jarek in the sitting room with the other babes." Penelope spun on her heel, her robes billowing out behind her as she hastily retreated.

"Headmistress, I know you're displeased with our arrival here, you've made that much obvious, but I don't appreciate your treatment of Penelope. She's not the witch she was and if we judged everyone by his or her youth the world would be quite a different place. I'm going to change and I suppose I'll meet you out on the grounds. Let's hope you're capable of discerning the enemy."

Minerva McGonagall's wrinkled, withered hands fluttered in front of her face before settling above her less than perky breasts. Her mouth had opened and closed a fair number of times and yet she was unable to speak. She couldn't remember a time when a student had so blatantly reproved her, probably due to the fact it had never happened before. Of course it would be Hermione Gra-Malfoy to set the older witch in her place.

McGonagall sniffed to herself and decided it was time. She knew Hermione would be along shortly, which suited her just fine. While the girl was still exceedingly brilliant she had a tendency to allow her emotions to cloud her judgement.

Of all the things she had ever wished, she never imagined being forced into battle against Harry Potter. The thought yanked cruelly at her heartstrings and she resisted the urge to dab the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes as she made her way out of the castle. McGonagall was well aware Dumbledore had doted on the orphaned green-eyed wizard, but he had potential. He hadn't quite risen to the occasion but when it mattered most, Harry Potter had willingly put his life on the line to save Wizarding Kind. The idea that this day could potentially be the day that boasted the end of Harry Potter caused her to smother a choked sob.

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She stepped outside warily, listening for the sounds of spells and shouting but heard only the whisper of the wind in the trees. She hurried toward the Quidditch Pitch, somehow knowing that was where the final battle would take place. Harry Potter had always felt most at home on a broom. He was a natural after all. As she hurriedly crossed the grounds she gasped upon spying the flashes of colour and the muffled shouts. She ducked as a particular nasty hex flew past her ear and flattened herself against the side of the pitch.

It had begun.

Harry Potter fingered his wand, pensively staring at the trickle of water digging rivulets in the stonewall. He didn't wish to fight, not any longer. While he was well aware of the curse coursing through him, he fought it back down, refusing to allow it to overcome him once more. Harry knew this would probably be the end of him. Even if he, through some miracle, managed to survive the impending battle Yaxley was so set upon, Harry knew he'd never forgive himself for the things he had done.

Harry Potter had always considered Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger his very best friends. Hermione had grown on him and while it began as an accidental sort of friendship, he'd come to rely on her. He knew he could trust her with his life and while her endless supply of information was tiring at times, she meant well.

His heart ached with the knowledge of what he had done to her. He loved Hermione, of course he did, but he'd always thought of her as his sister. The bile rose in his throat once more and he choked it back, determined to remain strong one last time. Harry wondered for a moment if Hermione could actually forgive him before he realised he didn't want her too.

He couldn't ask her to forgive him when he couldn't forgive himself. He fervently prayed his son, James; sweet, innocent James would never know the damage his father had wrecked upon his family. Harry vaguely remembered bits of furniture smashing into the walls of his modest home while his wife cowered behind the sofa. He hoped Cho was all right. He hoped she'd have a bit of peace in her life after everything was said and done. He also couldn't help but to hope one day, Hermione Malfoy would sit down with Cho and James and explain exactly what had happened to him.

"Harry, Yaxley's coming, you've got to do something with that tea." Tracey whispered anxiously while guarding the door.

Harry was grateful for her. She hadn't deserted him and while he knew he had hurt her as well, he'd come to care for her. She wasn't a bad witch. She had simply made an error in judgement and he couldn't fault her for that. Tracey Davis was just as damaged as he was.

He waved his wand quickly and with a silent 'Evanesco' his special tea was gone. Harry stood quickly from the lumpy bed and grabbed Tracey around the waist. He had learned Yaxley questioned him less when he was entertaining himself with a beautiful witch. It was silly actually, but Harry wasn't about to question it. It made his life easier and considering it was drawing to a close he would take whatever he could get.

Yaxley pounded on the door with bare fists until Harry wrenched it open. Harry fought to remain calm when all he wished to do was bolt from the dungeon. He managed to twitch his lip in irritation and hoped his eyes did not belie his loyalty.

"I've sent the blokes ahead. They're ready when you are. It seems the old bitch has gotten wind of it and hidden away the students. Here I thought we'd manage to have a bit of fun with them." Yaxley growled roughly and Harry closed his eyes for a moment.

The idea of striking down innocents had never sat well with him; not even when he was a puppet on a string could he hurt a child. It seemed even Yaxley's curse had limitations. He squeezed Tracey into his side and hid his face in the side of her neck for a moment.

'_When you're sad and when you're lonely and you haven't got a friend, just remember…death is not the end.'_

"Did you hear that?" Harry pulled himself away from Tracey, frantically glancing around his small chamber for the source of the raspy music.

"Potter are you going mental? I've just bloody told you it's time to head to Hogwarts." Yaxley snarled and for the first time he could sense the resentment rolling off the withered wizard.

"Yaxley, it would be in your best interest not to insult me. Have you transported Balthazar? You know I detest going anywhere without him." Yaxley didn't respond, instead he spun on his heel and hurried down the dank corridor muttering under his breath something that sounded eerily similar to 'fucking snake'.

"You can do it Harry." Tracey Davis kissed Harry's cheek with a tremulous smile.

"Oh Tracey, you poor deluded, beautiful witch. I haven't got a chance in Hades, but perhaps I'll have a moment of peace. That's all I can ask for really. Remember, run to George the moment you're able. He'll take care of you." Harry kissed her brow, squared his shoulders, and once more, prepared to walk unto death.

Harry Potter hadn't expected to Apparate directly to the Quidditch Pitch. As far as he knew it was impossible to Apparate onto Hogwart's grounds. A small smile teased the corner of his lips as he recalled a particularly adamant Gryffindor informing him of this tidbit of information.

"Hermione." Harry whispered and knew she was there. If anyone could discover how to lower the wards of the castle it was she.

He flinched as a corner of the Pitch crumbled, great pieces of stone tumbled to the ground decimating a small group of Death Eaters. It didn't concern him in the least. He hoped the ragged group of wizards and Hermione's brought his followers to their knees.

'_And all that you held sacred, falls down and does not bend, just remember…death is not the end.'_ Harry shuddered as the raspy voice faded in and out reciting the lines. He deemed it fitting and pushed away from Tracey.

"Harry please, I'm not ready yet." Tracey tugged on the sleeve of a maroon shirt he didn't remember putting on with tears in her eyes.

"It's all right Tracey. You'll be all right. I've been ready since I was born." Harry shook himself free of her and walked directly to the center of the Quidditch Pitch.

He didn't expect the fighting to cease but he was surprised by the ferocity of the spells being thrown by both sides. He supposed he expected them to be entirely too civilized. Harry cringed upon spying one of the many Hermione's decorating the field shout the Killing Curse at a charging werewolf. Harry knew the true Hermione would never do such a thing and he was torn. Did he give aid to the wizards battling his own followers, did he give aid to his followers, or should he simply stand still?

'_When you're standing on the cross roads that you cannot comprehend, just remember…death is not the end. And all your dreams have vanished and you don't know what's up the bend…just remember, death is not the end.'_

Harry Potter felt himself be struck in the chest with a Stinging Hex but he barely faltered on his feet. He felt the red hot, fiery rage battling it's way to the surface and knew he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. He gripped his wand and resisted the urge to hex, jinx, and curse everyone exactly where they stood.

His blazing green eyes were drawn to a window and he didn't understand why until he saw a flash of light. Harry knew it was Hermione, the true Hermione, yet he didn't know how he knew. If he had a chance of survival it would only be by her hand. Harry knew even Hermione Granger had limits, but he couldn't help but hope for just the barest hint of a moment before the angry beast took over completely that she would succeed.

His wand rose of its own accord and spells were flying from the tip, striking witch, wizard, and Hermione alike. It made no difference if he struck Death Eater or New Order Member; his only goal was bedlam, pain, and death. Harry was knocked off his feet by a particularly powerful 'Stupefy' and stilled. He stared into the dark clouds littering the sky feeling completely apathetic to it all.

'_When the storm clouds gather round you and heavy rains descend…just remember, death is not the end. And there's no one there to comfort you, with a helping hand to lend…just remember death is not the end.'_

"Come on Harry, get up. It's not over for you yet. You've got something quite important left to do. Imagine it, me telling Harry Potter what he's forgotten. Sirius will never let you forget this you know." Harry Potter blinked furiously against the raindrops dripping in his eyes.

He knew that voice. He knew that voice by heart. He'd memorized every nuance over the years. It had to be a dream. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. It wasn't that he had never experienced such a phenomenon before, he had. Harry had simply assumed it was a magic he was incapable of understanding. Yet when his green eyes opened, he was staring into the freckled face of Ron Weasley.

He looked the same as he always had. His red hair was completely askew, his blue eyes shone brightly and his sweater was eons too big, but it was Ron Weasley nonetheless. Harry stared at the large freckled hand outstretched toward him and reached for it. He felt himself being dragged to his feet and thump heavily into the long deceased Weasley.

"I'm dreaming. I've got to be dreaming." Harry ran his free hand through his dark hair and winced as he saw Hermione hit with a jinx in the midst of her transformation back to Luna Lovegood.

"Hello Harry, Ron it's lovely to see you." Luna brushed off her borrowed Muggle clothes and ran toward the wizard who had struck her.

"You're not dreaming Harry. Dumbledore asked us to remain on the sidelines and observe but Sirius and I just couldn't do that could we? Your parents aren't here though, sorry about that. They're looking over James. He's doing well and Cho is better now. I thought you'd like to know that. We can catch up all we like later, but you know what you've got to do." Ron shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable with this sort of talk.

Ron watched Hermione after Hermione stare in his direction, their feet frozen as their mouths dropped open in disbelief. Luna Lovegood threw up a particularly strong Protean Charm as it seemed the other New Order Members were distracted by the arrival of their deceased friend. She happily fended off the faltering Death Eaters, shouting about Nargles and other magical creatures.

Yaxley howled from the safety of the rubble, furious as his plans were thwarted. He clamored over the stones and inched his way along the outermost wall in order to avoid being caught in the crazy bint's Shield Charm. Yaxley managed to skirt around a few frozen Weasley's his eyes set on Harry Potters when a wand was rudely shoved into his throat.

"It's about time you cowering bastard." Hermione Granger Malfoy deftly snatched his wand from his fingertips and gave him a hard shove. "Go on then, walk."

Yaxley had little choice in the matter, silently cursing himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings. He detested being bested by a fucking Mudblood and had no qualms expressing such hatred. Of course it only earned him a sound smack in the back of the head and a Silencing Charm from the angry witch behind him.

"You promised Granger!" Draco Malfoy sprinted across the Quidditch Pitch, his grey eyes dark with a promising storm.

"Kingsley! Will you come and hold him please? Please, don't scurry off to the Ministry with him, I need him but I must have a word with my husband before he gives himself an aneurysm." Hermione hastily shoved a Silent yet furious Yaxley into Kingsley Shacklebolt's burly arms.

Draco grabbed his wife roughly, ignoring the scoffs of protest behind him. He was well aware there was an apparition of Ron Weasley wandering about but he refused to give that red haired bastard another thought. His main concern was his wife.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry. I'm so bloody sorry. I wouldn't have come down at all, but Yaxley…"

"I don't give a fuck what Yaxley was going to do. What if he saw you before you got to him?"

"He didn't!" Hermione protested, completely missing the blatant fear in her husband's eyes.

"He could have. You're being bloody careless. You didn't come here for Yaxley, you saw Weasley and couldn't wait to…" Draco stopped suddenly as Hermione's frown deepened. "You haven't the slightest fucking idea what I'm talking about do you?" He sighed and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"I-I saw Yaxley climbing over the rubble and…you were just on the other side and…" Hermione sniffled, clinging to him desperately in the middle of the stalled battle.

"It's all right love, I'm here. I'm fine. Gods, Granger you're going to be the death of me." Draco didn't give a rat's arse if witches and wizards who weren't sure what they were fighting for surrounded them. He leaned down and kissed his wife until they could no longer breathe.

"Hermione?" Draco instantly stiffened, tucking his wife into his side and turned to look upon The-Boy-Who-Kept-On-Living and his trusty sidekick The Weasel. It seemed Draco would never be free of them, not even in death was he given a reprieve.

"R-Ron? I don't…how?" Hermione didn't relinquish her hold on Draco, in fact her arms tightened and Draco resisted the urge to smirk in derision. There were more important things at hand besides his ego.

"It's a long story. Let's just say Sirius and I ignored Dumbledore and here we are." Ron Weasley pointed over toward the crumbling wall of the Quidditch Pitch and Hermione gasped.

Sirius Black was nonchalantly leaning against a particularly large bit of stone with his arms crossed and a rather bored expression upon his face. He raised a hand in a slight wave and resumed glowering at the spread of Death Eaters converging on the New Order. If the sight weren't so shocking, Hermione would have laughed. It seemed even in death Sirius Black was determined to get into a bit of trouble.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione reluctantly released her husband and knelt beside the man she had once considered family.

"You can't help him Hermione. He's got to do it himself. Dumbledore said so." Ron sighed flicking the man he'd always consider 'ferret' a particularly nasty glance.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I've made a right mess of things haven't I? I've gone from the Chosen One to Public Enemy Number One." Harry groaned, clutching his mid-drift as the Dark Magic swirled in his veins, eager to take over once more.

"You've got to kill him, Harry. It's the only way. I can't reverse the curse because quite honestly it doesn't exist. It's a special brew of Dark Magic concocted by the Darkest Wizards of our time save from Voldemort. The spell will end when Yaxley takes his last breath, but…I can't be sure…I mean to say…" Hermione stammered, refusing to meet the green eyes seeking hers.

"She means to say you'll probably die, Potter." Draco Malfoy sighed and knelt beside his wife.

He wasn't much good with these sorts of situations, nor did he want to be, but for her he'd muddle through. As much as he'd never liked Harry Potter, he knew the wizard was important to Hermione and he'd gladly do whatever was necessary to ease her pain. Such courtesies did not extend to Ronald Weasley and Draco wasn't about to apologise for it.

"Way to give her the news Malfoy." Ron spat on the ground, which was better than punching the former Slytherin he supposed. "It'll be all right Harry. You won't be alone. You'll never be alone again. You mum and dad, Sirius, Dumbledore hell even your grandparents are here. It's not so bad. It's quite nice actually, though I do miss food."

"Of course you do Ron." Harry's sigh turned into a snicker and then downright guffaws as he remembered every moment of Ron shoving his mouth full with the amazing spread of Hogwart's feasts.

"You really haven't got a choice, Harry. You've faced down Vol-Volde-Voldemort. Merlin even in death I can't say his bloody name. If Hermione kills him, you'll be free but you know she'd never really recover from that. Her guilt would eat her alive and she'd spend the rest of her life wondering if there was something else she could have done. You know I'm right and that's never really happened before, now has it?" Ron smiled a dopey half smile and helped Harry to his feet.

"Death agrees with you Weasley." Draco smirked; arching his eyebrow and for once Ron ignored him, concentrating instead on Harry Potter.

"Hermione?" Harry looked down at a disheveled Hermione kneeling in the muddy grasses, feeling quite a bit conflicted.

Harry now knew he didn't stand a chance of surviving properly. While Ron hadn't said he'd be killed from releasing himself from Yaxley's curse, Harry knew it would be something incredibly painful. He also knew he wouldn't be able to end his own life. Ron wasn't capable of such a thing; death did have its limits after all. It came down to Hermione. Harry Potter couldn't think of a single person he'd rather put him out of misery. He trusted her with his life and he trusted her to take it from him.

"I can't Harry. You can't ask me to…you can't." Hermione allowed the tears in her eyes to mix with the drizzle of rain until they were indiscernible from each other. She leaned heavily on Draco's shoulder and hefted herself to her feet.

"Hermione, please. If you can't figure a way for me to get out of this, there isn't much of a choice now is there? I'd rather it be you then some Death Eater out for revenge." Harry wasn't above pleading but Hermione shook her head so vehemently he was at a loss.

She wouldn't even look at Harry, as she was having difficulty separating the wizard before her from the evil visage she'd witnessed first hand. Draco felt her shaking when he stood behind her and drew her back into his chest. The position gave him ample opportunity to study the boy he'd spent his childhood despising. Grey eyes met green over trembling golden brown disarray and Draco nodded curtly. The message had been given and received, albeit with a trace of surprise.

Harry silently asked the former Slytherin 'why' with an incline of his head and a furrow of his brow and Draco wasted no time in glancing down at the slight witch in his arms and kissing her temple. It was a blatant statement that screamed, 'for her' and Harry understood.

"Keep your eyes closed." Harry whispered as he took one step forward, then another and embraced Hermione. "I don't want you to remember me like this. Remember me as the children we were, back when life made much more sense. Remember me as your best mate, as your brother, as a terribly inept wizard who was taught a multitude by a bushy haired know it all Muggle-born witch. If it's not too much to ask, please don't let James know all I've done. No child should be forced to live in the shadow of their parent, even Malfoy knows that much." Harry smiled against her cheek, checking to make sure her eyes were tightly closed.

He kissed her cheek and gave Draco a nod of thanks before releasing her. Harry stood beside Ron and smiled as Sirius made his way across the Pitch. The familiar black hair billowed in the rainy breeze, bringing back memories filled with love and some semblance of family.

"Come on then old boy, you've got this one. Life is hard, but death? Death is the easiest thing you'll ever do as long as you remember one important fact, Harry." Sirius embraced Harry with the strength of the still living and pounding his back with a wide smile.

"What's that then Sirius?"

"Death is not the end." Sirius winked and the trio slowly walked between the spells being fired. It seemed the fight had resumed.

"I keep hearing music, I mean, not right now but before and…" Harry scratched his forehead, brushing against his scar.

"Oi, yeah. Sirius is a bloody awful singer but he's become obsessed with some Muggle whose voice isn't much better." Ron Weasley shoved at the sleeves of his oversized hideous sweater and stepped into a rather large puddle of rainwater.

"For the tree of life is growing where the spirit never dies…and the bright light of salvation up in dark and empty skies. When the cities are on fire…with the burning flesh of men…just remember, death is not the end." Sirius sang at the top of lungs, his voice scratchy and breathy in the midst of hexes being shouted, and wizards toppling to the ground.

Harry spotted Yaxley cowering behind a nameless Death Eater and it didn't surprise him much. Yaxley was a vicious fighter but only when the odds were in his favour. It seemed he'd lost the will to take over Wizarding Kind as well as using Harry Potter as his personal puppet. When his watery eyes spied Harry he immediately turned tail to run, but it was Luna Lovegood Weasley that stopped him in his tracks with a nifty Freezing Charm.

"Oh, is it time then? Remember Harry; a simple Killing Curse isn't going to get the job done. You've got to burn the body. You'll feel a bit of pain but I can use a Numbing Potion if you like. It won't alter your facilities or anything, but it'll ease the pain." Luna smiled brightly and tossed Yaxley into a unceremonious heap at Harry's feet.

"She's an odd bird isn't she?" Sirius chuckled conspiratorially in Harry's ear.

All Harry could do was nod and both Sirius and Luna took his actions as an affirmation. He spared a glance over his shoulder and took one last look at the witches and wizards scattered across the Quidditch Pitch at the place he'd always considered his first home.

He saw Molly Weasley desperately grasping a fallen Fred, or was that George? He saw Arthur standing by her side, crinkling his hat in his hands. Harry was most surprised to see Lucius Malfoy slowly making his way toward the Weasley's and kneeling beside the fallen twin, waving his wand over his inert form. He wondered when that reluctant relationship began before his green eyes focused on Blaise Zabini stepping on the throat of a Death Eater who wriggled on the ground. Declan Rosier howled into the rain clutching Theo Nott to his chest before whipping out his wand. He shouted an obviously distraught 'Avada Kedavra' at a snarling Death Eater, which looked eerily similar to a Lestrange.

"Don't worry Harry, the ponces will be just fine. His heart will start right back up in about oh let's see…yes, there it is." Sirius gestured toward a now sputtering Theo Nott with a raucous laugh.

Theo threw his arms around Declan, their tears melding with the rain before shouting Weasleys converged them upon. Harry was thankful they weren't alone in their shock and was quite grateful to see Fred or George stumbling to his feet as well. It seemed from Harry's nervous glances the losses were heavy on the Death Eaters and the few remaining tossed their wands to the ground, except Yaxley.

Yaxley glowered with defiance, even while frozen and Harry soon realised there was no hope for the wizard. He was never going to release Harry, even if the power did rest in him. He threw back his shoulders and raised his wand. He didn't relish the idea of murdering the man, but what choice did he have?

"Release the Charm, Luna." Harry was grateful Luna didn't question his request.

From the corner of his eye, he spied her dirty blonde hair blowing into her face as she waved her wand to release the spell. He respected the fact she didn't leave his side and smiled quickly. Yaxley's chest was heaving with rage, his lips sputtering words of hatred whisked away on a particularly bustling wind.

"You can do it Harry. We'll see you soon, son." Sirius patted his back and disappeared. Ron smiled, gave his shoulder a squeeze as his corporeal form dissipated.

"You're mine Potter. You'll never be free of me. What you think you can do away with me and go on to live a marvelous life? They'll never forgive you. You'll spend the rest of your life under my shadow. Think of it, the pathetic Chosen One living under the cloud of the greatest Death Eater of all time!"

"Now, now Yaxley, I do beg to differ." Lucius Malfoy stepped into the fold, followed by his son and daughter-in-law.

It seemed the New Order was quite willing to blatantly encircle Yaxley as they waited for Harry Potter to put an end to the git. Harry felt as though he were back in the Forbidden Forest, as his deceased loved ones surrounded him, as he faced down Voldemort. While the New Order was hesitant to trust him, they were more than willing to stand beside him and he appreciated the gesture.

"Lucius, you bloody fucking traitor."

"Oh for the love of Merlin Potter, do away with him so I'm not forced to listen to his incessant babbling any longer." Lucius Malfoy rolled his aristocratic eyes and gestured toward Harry's outstretched wand.

"He won't do it, Malfoy. He hasn't the nerv…"

"Avada Kedavra." Harry Potter crumpled to the ground the moment Yaxley's eyes widened and his last breath left his decrepit body.

Hermione ran to his side, smiling despite her tears and propped her arm under his head. Harry blinked a few times and a small trickle of dark red blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His body convulsed sudden as the pain wracked through his limbs and it was Luna who forced open his mouth and poured a nasty drought down his throat.

"It's to numb the pain." She whispered before easing back into the growing crowd of witches and wizards.

Harry's seizure stopped as quickly as it began and Hermione stroked his cheek, murmuring comforting words he couldn't quite make out. The silence was deafening and it seemed they were all looking to Hermione for the answer. Harry would have laughed if he had been able. She would always be known as the witch who knew bloody everything, no matter the circumstance and it warmed his heart.

"It's time." Harry whispered as another cough clenched his chest.

"I can't Harry, please don't ask me. I know all the horrid things you've done. I know them more than anyone and while I can't forgive you yet, I can't be the one to end you either. You can't ask it of me." Hermione kissed his forehead so softly, Harry wasn't sure he felt it at all.

He was cold and while the Potion was numbing the pain, it was unable to quell the spasms as the Dark Magic fought against him. He gripped her hand tightly and looked over her head toward the last wizard he ever thought he'd be relying upon.

Draco Malfoy sighed, wondering why he'd accepted the task in the first place. He sat in the muddied, wet grass beside Hermione and curled his arm around her waist. He stared into the eyes of Harry Potter, hoping against hope some magical miracle would occur saving him from being known as the man who killed The Chosen One.

"Close your eyes love." Draco whispered against Hermione's temple and kissed her brow.

She didn't argue with him, though she brushed her fingertips across Harry's lips and mouthed 'I love you' before she closed her eyes and buried her face in Draco's chest. Draco raised his wand, but it wavered in his hand as his aunt's words rang through his head. 'You've got to mean it, Draco' and he realised that as much as he wanted to mean it, he didn't. He didn't want to kill Harry Potter anymore than he wanted Hermione to do it. He didn't want her to blame him and while she wouldn't right away, it would always mar their relationship. Draco was well aware he was being a bit selfish but when it came down to it, he didn't want to kill Harry Potter because it would hurt her and he couldn't bear the thought.

"Allow me." Lucius interrupted his son's inner musings with a smiling dancing on his lips. It seemed Lucius Malfoy quite enjoyed the idea of ending the legacy of Harry Potter. "I do remember a moment once, years ago when I spoke with young Mr. Potter. I recall telling him he was quite fortunate and we should always be hopeful he would always be around to save the day. It seems the opposite is true. In order to save the day, Mr. Potter must die and far be it from me to deny the needs of the many over the few." Lucius whipped his wand from the confines of his billowing robes and before anyone could object, a flash of green light enveloped The Boy Who Lived until he lived, no more.


	17. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Sweet Merlin has it been forever. Now, I expect quite a bit of backlash from this particular Epilogue and believe you me, I've spent quite a bit of time working on it and this just works for me.**

**I have a ridiculous amount of notes for a companion piece, which I'm sure after reading this chapter you'll be able to guess exactly where it's headed. I can't promise it will be published or even started anytime soon considering the numerous works in progress I've got going, but the idea is there.**

**I've edited and re-edited this and if there are mistakes well...pretend they were intentional ;)**

**Thanx for taking this particular journey with me. As always enjoy! *kisses***

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

_Eleven Years Later_

* * *

It would have been easy to say the Wizarding World easily went back to what they knew best, but it would be a lie. There were murmurings, musings and conjecture, which lasted for years surrounding the quiet death of Harry Potter. Some said the poor wizard went mad and ended his own life, unable to live up to the expectations of being The Boy Who Lived, but no one paid much mind to Rita Skeeter any longer.

The Ministry for their part praised Harry Potter's works for the betterment of witches and wizards. If the rumours can be believed, his son James was awarded a hefty sum of galleons. Of course, he was too young to understand words such as 'posthumous' and couldn't quite grasp why his father was receiving an award, but as long as he could purchase all the chocolate frogs he wished, he was happy. He could often be seen in Hogsmeade during Hogwarts free weekends of course, dark unruly hair bouncing, while hurrying to the sweets shop.

Cho Chang never returned to England and no one could blame her for that. She married a delightful Irish wizard and settled quite nicely into the lush countryside. Those who had once known her were surprised to see James Potter on the Hogwarts Express, but such things no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. He is just as incorrigible as his father, according to Draco Malfoy, though such things should be taken with a grain of salt.

It is said the new Potions Professor is just as bad if not worse than Professor Snape, but his wife is quick to dispel the naysayers. She is often seen flitting about the Hogwarts library. She claims it is because Hogwarts houses the biggest, best, and oldest collection of Wizarding books in existence, but the seventh year students beg to differ. In fact, if asked, they will warn you to never venture near the kitchens after hours. It seems the Potions Professor and his wife, have taken to lascivious activities, which explains their ever-expanding family.

Declan Rosier and Theo Nott purchased a modest little cottage on the outskirts of Wizarding London. It is said their nights are filled with debauchery but no one knows for certain. They are often seen in Diagon Alley chasing after a rambunctious Jarek Malfoy covered in ice cream. They considered children for a nanosecond, before deciding, a cat was much more in line with their capabilities. Mr. Precious is said to be the most spoilt cat in all of England, considering his diamond collar is absolutely blinding, but perhaps it is the life he deserves.

The real question is whatever happened to Penelope Parks and George Weasley? Frequent owls had been exchanged between the Weasley's and their errant son over the years. He had married Penelope Parks in a quiet ceremony just before she gave birth to a beautiful little girl.

From the way Molly Weasley puffed her chest in pride, one would assume the little girl was a Weasley and no one would dare say anything different. She hadn't been seen in person until the very first day of term at Hogwarts. It was quite surprising to see Penelope Weasley and her husband George, surrounded by a gaggle of red-haired children.

The dark haired beauty stood apart from the rest, quietly taking in her surroundings with the practiced aristocratic air of her mother. She was instantly surrounded by the Malfoy's as they greeted each other as the old friends they truly were. There were joyous shouts and numerous hugs to go around and it was a beautiful sight really.

Draco Malfoy studied the small girl with the long dark hair. Her sooty eyelashes blinked slowly as she glanced upon the tall wizard. She had heard many stories of her extended family and even seen photographs, but this was the very first time she was to meet them all and it made her quite anxious.

"You look like your mother." Draco commented, holding out his hand.

"So I've been told." The young witch quipped, her lip twitching in silent derision upon spying Jarek Malfoy chase his younger sister Lyra.

Draco followed her gaze with a knowing smirk. Jarek had always been rambunctious and it seemed the first day of term simply exacerbated a precarious situation. He had half a mind to tell the boy to curtail his behaviour yet the other half wished him to enjoy his childhood in a way Draco had never been able. Draco decided to remain silent as he stood beside the quiet witch, knowing his wife would eventually shout at the boy.

"Jarek Lucius Malfoy! Draco, the least you could do is take Scorpius and Cassie if you're going to refuse to restrain your son. Absolutely ridiculous, and you call yourself a Professor…" Draco leaned forward and quickly kissed his wife's moving lips.

He was used to her shouting at him. It had become way of life and it didn't bother him in the least. Draco easily lifted his youngest son from Hermione's arms, freeing her hand so she could grasp Jarek by the ear. The flailing blonde looked to his father and received not an ounce of compassion.

"Merlin, how many children do you _have_?" Penelope and George's daughter sniffed with disdain while wringing her hands in nervousness.

Draco smiled kindly at the small girl recognizing her mother. Pansy/Penelope had always lashed out rather than admit her own vulnerability. It seemed her daughter had inherited much from her mother, which was probably for the best.

"Your tact has obviously come from your father. For your information Ms. Weasley, my wife and I have four children. I'm sure you observed our oldest Jarek being reprimanded by his mother. Lyra is standing just there next to your mother. Scorpius and Cassie are the twins. I see you have more than a few brothers and sisters yourself." Draco winked at the young witch causing her to blush.

"I've only a brother and a sister. They're the loud ones with brilliant red hair and freckles just over there." She lifted a small pale hand and pointed toward an obvious pair of twins laughing at the nervous first year students. "They're not old enough to go to Hogwart's yet. I'll be alone for the first time ever." Her voice was suddenly very small and Draco couldn't help but to awkwardly pat the girl's back while keeping a tight hold on a squirming toddler.

"Think of it this way, you'll make new friends and then you shan't be so alone. This is Jarek's first year as well. Your cousins' Alice, Lucy, and Luis start this year as well. I'm sure you've met them by now."

"Aunt Luna is a bit too strange for my tastes. I'm afraid Lucy is quite like her. Why do they all have red hair and I don't?" The young witch gazed up at Draco sadly, tucking a long, dark, stray hair behind her ear.

"Well that's simple sweetie. You're the most special of course." He winked at her and led her back to Penelope before he was forced to answer more questions that were uncomfortable.

"Have you told her? What do you mean no? What are you waiting for?" Hermione hissed into Penelope's ear, yanking the witch into a quick hug to keep their conversation secret.

"Have you told Draco? No, you haven't, I know you haven't. What are you waiting for?" Penelope Weasley smiled easily, though internally she was a bundle of nervous energy.

She and George had quietly raised their brood far from the British Wizarding World. Instead, they had settled in a small village in Italy, where it had been easy to blend in with their newborn daughter. George had acclimated quickly, while Penelope had struggled. She'd lived her life surrounded by family and friends. It was strange for her to wake each morn with only George, but she'd come to cherish it.

They hadn't truly planned on returning, but in the end, they decided it was best for their children. Their children deserved to know of the Magical Community. They deserved a Hogwart's education just as much as any other witch and wizard. When it came down to it, George was terribly homesick and it was the least Penelope could do for him.

"Listen Granger, I know your oversized, over-stimulated Gryffindor brain can't help itself from butting in, but George and I have decided there isn't a need for her to know. She's a good girl. She's nothing like him. It's our choice, not yours." Penelope glowered at the shocked witch and Hermione took a step back.

"You're right, of course you're right. I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. It's not as if…" Hermione trailed off, clutching her fussy daughter to her chest. "He's here."

Penelope gasped, spinning her head to glance in the direction Hermione Malfoy was staring and swore she felt her heart stop. Chatting and laughing with her eldest daughter was none other than James Sirius Potter. The resemblance to Harry was staggering and the conversations around the witches lulled as their eyes were drawn to the young wizard.

"Blimey, he looks just like his father."  
"Is that George's girl over there?"  
"Should we do something about it?"  
"Does she know who he is?"

"That's quite enough you lot. It's a sad bloody day when I'm forced to be the voice of reason. Yes, he looks just like his father. He also seems to be a nice enough kid and when is the last time any of you have seen Lily laugh? I'm sure eventually it'll all come out and who bloody cares? If you march over there now and rip her away from the bloke, she's going to be furious with you when she discovers the truth. Leave them be." Draco Malfoy sighed dramatically before placing a sleeping toddler in the buggy.

He pulled Hermione into his side, relieving her of Cassiopeia with practiced hands. He brushed the unruly blonde curls from his daughter's forehead and kissed his wife's brow. He knew the twins would fall asleep before their brother ever stepped foot onto the Hogwart's Express, but far be it from him to argue with his insistent wife.

"I should have let your parent's watch them." Hermione murmured into his throat with a soft sigh.

"No matter, they're sleeping now and at least we don't have to chase them about."

"Do you think they'll be alright?" Hermione gestured toward a slightly trembling Penelope, leaning heavily on George.

Draco observed an animated Lily Penelope Weasley introduce a swaggering James to her parents with a small smirk. Penelope's shoulders relaxed as she shook the young wizard's hand and he smiled at her brightly. George maintained a stiff façade yet Draco knew the poor red haired wizard was fraught with anxiety.

"They'll tell her when they're ready love, come on then. We really should find Jarek and Lyra."

The Malfoy's weaved through the crowd of witches and wizards, searching for their children while smiling and waving to various families. They were delighted to see the Zabini's and their children Coraline and Blaise. Daphne had begged for another child once Coraline was set to go to Hogwart's yet Blaise adamantly refused. He maintained it was unnecessary to compete with the Malfoys. Though secretly he didn't mind the idea of another daughter but considering the difficulty Daphne had while labouring with his son, Blaise could not be swayed.

In fact, if it weren't for Declan Rosier, Blaise Zabini was certain his namesake would have never drawn breath. Declan still maintained it was unnecessary to name the child after him, but the Zabini's would hear of nothing less. Declan and Theo doted on Blaise Declan Zabini much the way they did with Jarek. They were quite fortunate the two boys were quite good friends otherwise jealousy could have caused quite a bit of havoc.

Blaise coughed discreetly behind his large hand, nudging Coraline's shoulder. She quickly stepped away from Jarek, unclasping their hands. She blushed prettily and smoothed down her long dark hair with a quick smile at her honorary aunt and uncle.

"Don't think we didn't see that. Now where is your sister?" Hermione glowered at her oldest son, secretly pleased.

She knew he was entirely too young to be thinking of the future, but she couldn't help but admire the striking couple they made. It wasn't so long ago they were throwing toys at once another and Jarek was turning Coraline's hair green with his spurts of uncontrolled magic.

"Lyra is over there with Potter." Jarek spat the other wizard's name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth and perhaps it did.

Jarek Lucius Malfoy detested James Potter on sight and it didn't help matters to see the boy's jaw fall upon when he spied Jarek's younger sister. Though Lyra was only a year younger than him, she was lovely. Her golden blonde hair rippled down her back and her wide, expressive brown eyes were always studying her surroundings as if they were the most interesting things she'd ever seen. She was a quiet girl, which Draco appreciated after the whirlwind that was Jarek and he doted on her constantly.

Draco didn't much like the idea of his eldest daughter befriending the child of the wizard who had almost ruined their lives. They had shielded their children from that dark part of their history and the Wizarding World had done the same. None of them wished to reminisce upon the fall of The Chosen One.

Lily Weasley trailed behind James and Lyra who were having an animated discussion concerning Hogwarts: A History. Hermione's eyes narrowed in silent contemplation, taking in Lily's obvious sneer. She shook her head quickly, certain her eyes were playing tricks on her as the trio approached.

"Mum! This is James, James Potter and he's actually read Hogwarts: A History more times than I have!" Lyra bounced on the tips of her toes with brown eyes sparkling.

"Of course he has darling, he's _older_." Draco stressed the word, his grey eyes giving warning to the boy.

"Dad, must you? I'll be off to Hogwarts just next year. Thank heavens for that as I couldn't imagine being home for another two years while Jarek is off learning all sorts of wonderful things. Will you do it for me, Daddy? I shan't see you til the weekend because it's the first week of term and you always promise you'll come visit but you never do and I'm quite used to it but…"

"Lyra, breathe. Of course your father will do it for you." Hermione smiled sweetly while rocking the baby buggy.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. He took a moment to straighten his robes and finger comb his blonde hair off his forehead. Blaise quirked an eyebrow, yet remained silent.

"There shall be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class." Lyra squealed and leapt into her father's arms, kissing his cheek quickly.

"That was bloody terrifying. I didn't know you were capable of channeling your inner Snape." Blaise shuddered and clutched his wife to his chest.

"Don't be so dramatic, dear. Hermione, you and the children are still planning to visit yes?" Daphne smiled warmly at the slight witch, her eyes easily travelling to her waistline.

Hermione blushed furiously, her eyes wide with an unspoken warning and nodded quickly. Draco and Blaise were oblivious to the exchange, which was probably for the best.

"Oh please tell me we'll all be together for the holidays? Uncle Fred and Aunt Luna were going on and on about finally being able to see Uncle George and Aunt Penelope for the hols, which would be lovely and…."

"Lyra, breathe." Hermione noticed how quickly James had stiffened upon mention of the holidays and couldn't resist addressing him. "James Potter, you're the spitting image of your father. Lyra was simply so excited it seems her manners have slipped. I'm Hermione and this is my husband Draco, though I suppose you should become accustomed to calling him Professor Malfoy. Is your mother here? I haven't seen her in ages."

James Potter shuffled his feet and stared at the ground. He didn't much like discussing his home life. It wasn't that it was terrible or anything of that sort, but he was treated differently than his siblings and it bothered him quite a bit. Sometimes he swore his mother looked at him as if she hated him.

"N-no ma'am, she's not much for family sorts of things. She's been busy with my brothers and decided I'm old enough to see myself off. I suppose I shan't see her until the end of the year which is just as well." His shoulders slumped as he admitted his greatest shame, but Hermione Malfoy wasn't the sort to leave things be.

She stepped forward and grasped the boy in a tight hug, while attempting to smooth down his ridiculous hair. She pulled back to look at him, struck by the brilliant green of his eyes and hugged him once more. James wasn't sure what the correct protocol was for hugging strangers and awkwardly kept his hands at his sides.

"You'll spend the holidays with us of course. I won't hear another word about it." Hermione draped her arm around the thin boy's shoulders and led him a short distance from her family. "Your father was my very first friend when I attended Hogwarts. He was a brilliant wizard and a hero. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

"Y-you knew him? You really knew him? You're not just taking the piss?" Hermione arched an eyebrow, but allowed the poor language to slide, just this once. She reached into the pocket of her slacks and withdrew a small picture, which she thrust toward James.

"I don't know what I'm looking at." James studied the picture with a frown.

"That wizard there, with the scar upon his forehead is Harry James Potter. The red haired wizard on the other end is Ron Weasley and in the center there is me." Her childhood self smiled largely and waved as did Harry and Ron, which startled James.

He'd never seen a wizarding photograph before and never one of his father. His mother was incredibly tight lipped where Harry Potter was concerned and told him the past was best left in the past. It was strange to think this curly haired brunette witch knew more about his father than he did, but he welcomed it.

"I'm named after him then?" James whispered, fingering the waving portrait of his father with reverence.

"Of course you are, Harry wouldn't have had it any other way really. James was his father and Sirius was his godfather. You were named after the two people Harry loved most. Harry never knew his parents either, at least you have your mum." Hermione pretended not to see the gathering of tears in his eyes and almost stumbled when he threw himself into her arms.

Her eyes locked with her husband's and he nodded curtly, understanding her need to connect with the boy. Lyra looked absolutely aghast which really aided his decision in taking in the boy. Perhaps she would think twice before contemplating involvement. Lily on the other hand, looked absolutely furious and Draco was forced to shake his head, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him while he studied her.

"It's all right, you can keep the photograph. I've many more at home and I'd be glad to share them with you when you come home with Jarek for the holidays." Hermione took his hand in hers and led her back toward the conglomerate of Malfoys and Weasleys.

"Thank you." James whispered and squeezed Hermione's hand before scurrying into the crowd to see to his trunk.

"Still a bleeding heart Gryffindor." Draco sighed. He stood behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist before pulling away with a frown. "What's that then?"

"Are you implying something Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione attempted to glower, but failed miserably, instead blushing with a small knowing smile.

"I'm implying my wife is hiding something from me and she knows how much I detest it." Draco draped himself around her, his palms meeting over her abdomen. "How long have you known?"

"Ginny suspected for a few weeks, but I visited St. Mungos a few days ago."

"I thought we agreed…" Draco began before a tiny hand covered his lips.

"We did, I don't know what happened, but I'm not apologising for it. Jarek is off to Hogwarts and Lyra will be joining him next year, it would be nice to…"

"Granger, have you forgotten our little monsters? Perhaps I should resign. I could be home more often and I wouldn't miss anything, I do hate missing anything you know I do…"

"Malfoy, you know I'd never let you miss anything important. I feel better knowing you're there for Jarek's first year and with the way James was looking at Lyra, I'd feel better if you were there for her first year as well. Whatever would you do with yourself otherwise?"

"Fill every bloody room of the Manor with children of course." Draco smirked and kissed his wife until she could no longer breathe.

* * *

(Seven Years Later)

* * *

Lily Weasley strummed her fingers on the Slytherin table over breakfast with a scowl perfectly etched on her angular face. She observed James laughing with her bloody cousins at the Gryffindor table while he cast furtive glances at Lyra. She was oblivious of course, her nose stuck in yet another book at the Ravenclaw table. It infuriated her more than she was willing to admit that James never once looked at her that way.

She knew she'd become a bit obsessed with him, but she couldn't help it. No matter how many times her mother introduced her to fine eligible wizards, they bored Lily almost to tears. Jarek Malfoy would have been an obvious contender if he hadn't been completely smitten with Coraline Zabini. She knew there were rumours flouting about that they were going to marry the moment they graduated and it disgusted her.

Everything disgusted her, really. Lily hated them, all of them and while she put on a good show when she managed to go home for the holidays, she wasn't fooling anyone really. Lily had heard the angry whispers but had never really been able to make sense of it. They were afraid of her and she reveled in it.

"I don't know why you moon over him. He's not even special." Marina Flint flounced beside her best friend and immediately loaded her plate with bacon and toast, completely foregoing the eggs.

"I'm not bloody mooning. I'm contemplating. Did you know she barely even looks at him? Whatever does he see in her?" Lily nibbled a bit of toast with narrowed eyes.

"Lyra Malfoy? Well besides the fact, she's best in class, she's gorgeous, and she doesn't even know it. I mean I suppose she suspects because someone is always telling her, but she just blushes and hurries away to the library. Loads of boys have gone completely mental over her and she spends most of her time with Molly Weasley." Marina shook her head before slurping her tea. "If you really want a go with him, there are ways you realise?"

Lily gazed into Marina's bright blue eyes, grateful the girl looked more like her mother and gestured for her to continue.

"Honestly, do you ever pay attention in class? I swear we learned of it years ago in Potions. Now Professor Malfoy was delicious to look at, wasn't he then?"

"Marina, the point…get there." Lily waggled her fingers in James direction and he smiled brightly, oblivious to her affections.

"It depends of course, I mean do you wish to keep him or simply give him a try?" Marina flipped her light brown hair over her shoulder and adjusted her crisp white blouse.

"I'm not sure, though I'd love to have him before Lyra. That would be bloody delicious."

"He's your study partner for Potions isn't he? Just dose him with a bit of Love Potion silly. Sometimes I wonder about you Lily." Marina patted Lily's shoulder and left the Great Hall.

Later, Lily Weasley wandered the halls of Hogwarts with a vial hidden in her school robes while making her way to the Room of Hidden Things. It was the only place she and James could study in peace and worked perfectly toward her twisted agenda. She turned the corner and gasped, almost dropping her wand.

James and Lyra were in a darkened corner of the castle and it was obvious he was snogging her senseless. Her small hands were gripping his half buttoned white shirt and his hand lingered on her bum. Lyra's eyes were closed and it looked as though James was whispering in her ear.

Lily swallowed the bile, which threatened to erupt and closed her eyes. She would have to be absolutely perfect in her role for this to work. She dug her fingernails into her palms until her eyes began to tear from the pain of it. She ran forward a few steps and stumbled with an audible gasp causing the pair to break quickly apart.

"I told you we'd get caught James." Lyra hissed, instantly smoothing down her mussed uniform, while hiding behind him.

"It's just Lily. Are you all right there? You look a bit…ill." James instinctively stood in front of Lyra, knowing the wicked temper of his friend and waited.

"Y-you were late and I th-thought…I thought…" Lilly sniffed, grasping the straps of her bag while staring at the stone floor.

"Bollocks I completely forgot, look why don't you head to the kitchens and snag us a bite and I'll meet you there in a few minutes. I'd like to get Lyra back to her dorms." James smiled at her and Lily's façade almost cracked.

Instead, she turned on her heel and hurried away, heading straight for the dungeons with the false tears running down her cheeks. It didn't take her but a moment to be dragged into the Slytherin Common Room by an irate Jarek. Lily could always depend on him to stand up for her, which she appreciated and used to her advantage whenever possible.

"What happened? Are you all right? You never cry, you best tell me Lily." Jarek gripped her arms tightly resisting the urge to shake her.

They had bonded over summers spent at the Malfoy's Manor, mocking their numerous cousins. Their relationship had flourished and for a time, Penelope had been hopeful Lily would find a bit of happiness with Jarek. Those thoughts were quickly dashed when it had become apparent Jarek and Coraline were more than friends. Penelope had been quite put out when she discovered them snogging in the garden during the summer of their fifteenth birthdays.

"J-James was late to study and…" Lily sniffled dramatically, choking on a sob, "I went to see if h-he forgot and he and Lyra were…" Lily didn't have the chance to finish her practiced speech before Jarek was rushing from the common room.

She wiped her eyes, straightened her uniform, and slowly made her way toward the Room of Hidden Things. She kept her head downcast and fingered her Prefect badge which was the only thing that allowed her to be out of the dorms past curfew.

Lily managed a small smile when she entered the room and spied the four-poster bed nestled in the corner and the loveseat before the crackling fire. She quickly spread out her Potion books, parchment, ink well and quills before crossing her legs and reclining on the sofa. She rubbed her eyes, smearing the kohl lining her eyes for effect and even managed to unbutton a few pearl buttons on her blouse. She closed her eyes for a moment to rest before James came bursting into the room.

_Lily gasped, taking in the fresh bruise on James cheek and the rip in shirt and almost felt a pang of regret. Instead of ruminating on such emotions, she grasped his hand and led him to the sofa. James followed her silently, allowing her to inspect his bruises and scrapes._

_He hadn't expected to come across an angry Jarek. James hadn't been able to say a word in his defence before Jarek was shoving him into the hard stonewalls of the castle. While James had never had a close friendship with the Slythern, he thought Jarek would be more accepting of his relationship with Lyra, but he was wrong. He vaguely remembered well-aimed punches with angry hissed words demanding he stay away from her. James didn't defend himself, instead letting the boy pummel him senseless. With last kick, Jarek spat at him for making Lily cry._

_James felt particularly bad after hearing that. He'd expected a bit of backlash from Jarek, hell Aunt Hermione had warned him of such, but he never thought of Lily. James knew Lily was a bit enamored with him, but he knew something she didn't, which was why he looked out for her the way he did. She was a pretty girl and at one time he had even entertained the thought of pursuing her but Aunt Hermione and Penelope had quickly quashed that idea._

_They didn't know he had overheard them of course and he wished to keep it that way. They were worried for her and kept mentioning an odd quality concerning her eyes, not that he'd ever witnessed anything amiss. James had avoided Lily for a bit, trying to come to terms with the idea of a sister and it had hurt her more than she was willing to admit._

"_Why don't you like me?" Lily's petulant voice broke him out of his stupor, his green eyes widening as he saw Lily unbuttoning her blouse._

_James averted his eyes, shoving the insistent hand off his knee. He was uncomfortable and wished nothing more than to leave, but he was overcome with a wave of dizziness. Lily sidled into his side, toying with the buttons on his ripped shirt and James swallowed hard._

"_Lily, I like you just fine." He deftly removed her hands and snatched the bottle of Butterbeer from the coffee table._

"_You don't like me as much as you like Lyra." Lily crooned, hiding the small smirk behind her hand._

"_Lily, that's completely different. Please put your blouse back on, it's indecent." James took a large swallow of his Butterbeer, ignoring the slight aftertaste._

"_Why is it different? Why aren't I good enough? You were my friend first and then she came along with her blonde hair and her goody goody books and I didn't exist any longer." Lily pouted prettily, thrusting her bra-clad breasts forward after dropping her blouse onto the floor._

_James finished his Butterbeer quickly, shaking his head to clear the haze but seemingly trapped. He couldn't help but stare at the lightly tanned thighs, which were being exposed while Lily pushed up her skirt and removed her white knee socks. He didn't push her away when she straddled his lap and all he could think about was how she would taste._

_Lily gently took his hands in hers and placed them on her bum, rocking into him. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, his jaw, and his neck while wrapping her arms around his neck. She nipped his earlobe and gasped upon feeling his large hands kneading her bum._

"_Gods Lily, you're driving me mad. This is wrong on so many levels but all I can think about it how much I love you. You've done something haven't you?" James groaned, suddenly completely hypnotized by Lily's breasts._

_The little voice entrapped in his mind was berating him, shouting at him really, but he couldn't stop. James gripped the flesh on her hips, dragging his palms across her ribs until her breasts filled his hands. He groaned as his trousers tightened, yanking down the cups of her lacy bra, and burying his face in her cleavage._

"_What's a little Amortentia between friends James?" Lily knew he was completely under her spell when he allowed her to lead him to the four-poster bed._

_She pushed him onto his back and climbed up his body after removing her short, plaid skirt. James ripped off the remnants of his shirt and dragged her down on top of him. He attacked her throat while his hands slid down her knickers and removed her bra. He couldn't think, he didn't want to think. James only wanted to allow himself to be consumed by his love. _

"_Gods you're so beautiful. We've wasted so much time." James couldn't help but to roll Lily onto her back, his eyes an unrecognizable shade of darkness._

_Lily squirmed while he scrutinized her nudity, suddenly unsure, but James wouldn't allow her a moment to breathe. He quickly settled himself between her thighs and grasped her breasts in eager hands, his lips covering her dark nipple, sucking hard._

"_J-James, slow down love." Lily was caught between the ache between her legs and the worry of the situation, her body battling her mind._

"_I can't Lily. I love you so much, I've got to have you." James had managed to shimmy out of his slacks, his hands on her thighs while he stared at her._

_James licked his lips and dragged his hands slowly down Lily's thighs. Her hands covered her sex quickly, but James quickly tore them away. He captured her hands easily in his, allowing his free hand to explore her moist folds._

"_We'll always be together. I want you to have my children. I'm going to marry you, tomorrow, I swear it."_

"_Oh James, just imagine how powerful we could be together." Lily moaned, her head thrashing on the crisp sheets. This was everything she'd ever wished and more._

_James kissed her blush lips hard and wrenched off his plaid boxers. He peppered her breasts with kisses while he guided himself to her entrance. He couldn't help but to smile at her, overwhelmed with the idea Lily was his forever._

"_Of course we'd be brilliant Lily, after all, you are my sister." James grasped Lily's hips and slid into her warm cavern, breaking through her barrier with a single thrust. _

_Lily blinked hurriedly, attempting to process the words James had spoken through the slight ache between her legs. James thrust slowly, moaning into her throat. She allowed her body to be manipulated as his speed increased and swallowed hard._

"_Y-your sister?"_

"_Oh yes, the best sister to ever exist. You're absolutely magnificent. So bloody tight, I could stay here forever. No wonder your mother never told you." James shuddered above her, emptying himself and collapsing on her luscious breasts._

Lily blinked rapidly, gasping in great lungfuls of air, her stomach rolling with nausea. She moved to shove James off her body and discovered she was alone. Her bright green eyes surveyed the space and she stared down at her fully clothed body.

The door to the Room of Hidden Things burst open and in stumbled James with a terrible purplish bruise beneath his eyes, blood on his knuckles and a rather large tear in his shirt. Lily instantly leapt from the sofa, snatched the bottles of Butterbeer and threw them directly into the fire.

"You bastard. You bloody knew. You've bloody known this entire time and you didn't have the bollocks to fucking tell me?" Lily lashed out at James, shoving him hard until the castle stone dug into his back.

"I-I don't know what you mean, Lily." James stammered, wishing he had never left the tower.

"Are you sure about that….brother?" Lily's green eyes flashed with rage and James swore he saw the barest hint of red, but quickly brushed off such thoughts. "I can't be here. I can't breath. You've betrayed me. You've all betrayed me."

Lily left everything except her wand behind and ran from the Room of Hidden Things. She stumbled down the empty corridors, sobbing so loudly the portraits took cover lest she shout a spell in their direction. Lily finally collapsed in front of the ominous gargoyle that just so happened to nonchalantly open the hidden door, causing the stairs to appear.

Lily dragged her exhausted body onto the bottom stair and closed her eyes, wishing the castle would swallow her whole. Instead, she was encased in darkness, feeling as if she were spinning until she lay at the feet of none other than Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

"Ms. Weasley, I've been expecting you. Come on then, we'll have a cup of tea. There's much we need to discuss."

* * *

"Wait." Lily held up her hand, begging her mother to give her a bit of much needed space. "It's true, it's really true. Harry Potter is my father. James is my brother. If it weren't for some horrid little spell, which divested Harry of his faculties, I wouldn't even exist. Is that why I am the way I am? Is that why I'm so bloody angry?" Lily smashed the remnants of her tea onto the floor with shaking hands.

"Ms. Weasley…" Minerva McGonagall tread carefully not wishing to further upset the distraught witch.

"I'm not even a Weasley! I'm a bloody Potter. I knew I was different. I always suspected, I mean look at me and then look at my siblings. I don't look a bloody thing like them! Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Lily love." George strode forward and gasped his daughter's hands, searching her green eyes. "You're my daughter. You've always been my daughter and that will never change. I was there for every moment. I felt you move. I watched you be born. I held you when you cried. I changed your nasty little nappies. I taught you to walk and I couldn't love you any more. Blame me if you must. I couldn't bear the thought of sharing you. You've always been mine." George stroked Lily's cheek, brushing away the influx of tears.

"Y-you really mean it? You're not just taking the piss?" Lily clutched George's forearms desperately, craving validation for her very existence.

George embraced her, pressing Lily's head into his chest, holding her tight. He rocked her gently, shushing her sobs. Penelope observed the pair, her heart swelling with love. She couldn't ask for more.

"I love you more than any woman I've ever met." George whispered against her ear, shoving Lily's hair off her face. "Just don't tell your mother…or your sister…or my mother. Let's just keep it between us Lily love."

Lily Weasley coughed and sputtered, her knees suddenly shaking as they refused to hold her weight. George kept a firm hold on his daughter, lowering her slowly to the ground, her head in the crook of his elbow. His face showed no surprise and Lily instantly panicked, attempting to force herself from his arms.

"Ms. Weasley, please remain calm. This is all for the best really." Headmistress McGonagall swirled her wand over their heads, muttering an unknown incantation before vanishing their teacups.

"George? Is she alright? What's going on?" Penelope found herself tightly ensconced in Draco Malfoy's arms and she was quickly yanked back and bound to a flowered settee in the corner.

"Be still Pans." Hermione whispered, quickly kissing Penelope's brow.

It had been years upon years since the demise of Harry Potter and Hermione Malfoy was still the only person permitted to call Penelope Weasley, Pans. Their numerous owls over the years had only solidified their friendship and Hermione was quite glad the Weasley's had come home.

"How did you get here? What on earth is going on?" Penelope hissed, gasping when Hermione removed the thin gold chain hidden in her ruffled blouse, flashing a Time Turner before she stepped from her hiding place.

"We didn't have a choice Pans. The ramifications were astronomical and we had to do something. It's taken us a decade to determine the cause of it all. You don't know how difficult it was. I suspected from the first moment I laid eyes on her, but I couldn't be sure and I wasn't going to rush to conclusions based on assumptions."

"Granger love, you're rambling." Draco deftly removed Penelope's wand from her fist, while keeping a wary eye on Lily and George.

"Sorry, I've never really gotten over that." Minerva smirked at her former student, intensely studying the writhing brunette on the floor.

"Lily seduced James with Amortentia and discovered he's her brother during the…uhm…" Draco struggled for a moment before continuing, "defining moment if you will."

"Yes, exactly that. She was quite devastated but that wasn't the worst part. She had a child, which resulted from the union and the entire Wizarding World was in utter and complete shambles. The child in question was magically superior to even the Darkest Wizard we'd ever known and systematically destroyed everything we hold dear.

'We've tried everything. Merlin, I even travelled back to the time Harry was first hit with the curse, but nothing worked. I couldn't stop him and I think on some level I was afraid to stop him. It would have changed everything. You wouldn't have George, I wouldn't have Draco, and I couldn't do it. Please forgive me." Hermione lowered her head, ashamed of her behaviour but Penelope's hand patting her back alleviated her guilt.

"We can't have that, now can we Granger? So what then?"

"I did a bit of research and discovered The Purging Stone. It's little known magic, quite ancient really. I won't bore you with the details but it has the ability to remove dormant curses from afflicted witches and wizards but it must be done at the precise moment. Knowing Harry the way I did, he clung to the idea of love being the all-powerful magical cure-all. We paid George a visit as he loves Lily more than any other man does, and I thought that would be integral to the Stone workings. Don't look at me like that Pans, I didn't instruct him on what to say. We simply suggested he speak from the heart." Hermione wrung her hands and chewed her lip while George turned Lily's head.

"Mione, she's choking." George pounded Lily's back, a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

"It's fine Weasley. Lie Lily on her back, and step away. McGonagall, perhaps you should cast the Charm." Draco stood protectively in front of his wife, practically pinning her to his back with a forceful arm.

Headmistress McGonagall nodded curtly, clutching an ornately jeweled box in her withered hands. She placed it on the corner of imposing desk, nearest Lily and opened it slowly. She walked around the gasping witch three times slowly, watching Lily's lips fall open with a shudder.

"You brewed the tea with the Stone didn't you?" Penelope whispered, desperately squeezing George's hand until he winced.

The slow nod from the brunette witch in front of her answered her question while Penelope drew a shaky breath. She adored her daughter, regardless of her parentage. She'd only wished the best for her and hoped against hope the Gryffindor know-it-all Princess knew exactly what she was doing.

Thin, eerie black wisps escaped Lily's parted plump lips. It seemed they snapped as they hissed, intending to dive back into the witch, but McGonagall was always a fast draw. Numerous wisps swirled about Lily's head and Hermione held her breath. Their ends were still firmly lodged in Lily's throat, bringing them closer to the moment of truth.

"I can't hold them." Minerva growled, both hands firmly gripping her shaking wand.

The angry black wisps had formed a cloud, practically covering every inch of Lily in their desperation to return to the place they lived. The walls of the castle shook slightly, and the black cloud moaned loudly, ending in a growl. Minerva muttered '_protego'_ over her guests in order to keep them safe from the vile curse, but Hermione broke through, spreading her arms wide.

"Leave her. Take me." She implored the snakelike mass, her voice trembling.

"Bloody Gryffindor." Draco snarled and shoved his wife into Penelope's arms, knowing the witch would hold his wife tight. "Come on then, I'm waiting."

Draco closed his eyes as they hovered near his face, studying him intently before wafting toward his wife. They vanished the Shield Charm as if it were nothing more than a nuisance, encircling her slowly before balking at her abdomen. They snarled and snapped, turning toward Penelope and George.

"We'll take it. She's worth it. She's worth everything." It seemed the wisps were suddenly confused, unable to decide between their choices.

They wavered, pausing even, in their ominous perusal, which gave Headmistress Minerva McGonagall the opportunity she required. With a blinding flash of white light, the curse slammed into the jeweled box with an angry roar. The ancient witch slammed the lid shut, instantly binding it. She knew it wasn't safe to keep such an object within the walls of Hogwarts and had made arrangements for the Ministry to take possession of the item. Her shoulders sagged, her magic perilously drained and she stumbled into her plush desk chair.

"Again Granger? We're a bit old now wouldn't you think? Our eldest son is set to bloody graduate Hogwarts and here we are setting about to start over? We've already got five monsters. Are you trying to turn us into Weasley's?" Hermione remained silent, allowing her husband to rant a bit, knowing the moment would soon pass.

George and Penelope ignored the glowering Malfoy's in favour of dropping beside their daughter. Lily moaned softly and squeezed her mother's hand, causing tears to leap into Penelope's eyes. George kissed her brow, waiting with bated breath for her eyes to open.

"W-what happened?" Lily sputtered, immediately attempting to rise from her awkward position on the floor. "Why are they so angry? Why are you lot even here? I don't understand. I had an absolutely horrific dream and then I can't remember much of anything."

"HEADMISTRESS!" The pounding on the door silenced the room. The angry thudding continued until Minerva rolled her eyes and flicked her wand. A completely disheveled James Potter stumbled into the room, his chest heaving and his green eyes flecked with worry. "It's Lily! She's run off and I…" James stopped, frowning deeply to see Lily on the floor with her parents.

"I haven't run off anywhere James Sirius Potter, how dare you insinuate such a thing!" Lily glowered at the wizard while she stumbled to her feet.

She swayed a bit and George was quick to offer his arm. Lily closed her eyes, sifting through the bits and pieces of memories quickly flitting through her mind's eye. Penelope forced her daughter into a nearby chair, sighing with more than a bit of relief when Lily's eyes were finally clear even in the throes of anger.

"How was I to know? Between Blaise and Jarek shouting and beating me, I didn't have much chance to scour the castle for you. Bloody Alice is the one who said you'd left, but she was too busy snogging Alex Wood. You'll be glad to have missed it."

"James, shut up. Why on earth were Blaise and Jarek beating you?" James swallowed hard, actively avoiding his honorary aunt's burning gaze. "Wait, let me guess. Jarek caught you snogging Lyra." Lily laughed upon James Potter's face turning a vile shade of green.

"Lily…" The desperation in his voice was practically palpable and Hermione was having a difficult time containing her mirth.

"You're a terrible brother." Lily quipped with an easy sniff and the tension in the room instantly abated.

"Well, you're a completely oblivious sister. I mean, Zabini's been following you about like a lost puppy for bloody years and you still haven't noticed. What the bloody hell sort of wizard beats up a bloke for making his own sister cry?" James sat beside Lily and punched her shoulder, with a small smile.

"Should have learned how to fight proper. Can't even defend yourself…and you call yourself a wizard? Shame."

"Children, children, it is entirely too late to have these sorts of conversations here. Get out. Go to your dorms. Wait, on second thought, perhaps the Weasley's would prefer Lily accompany them home for the weekend? It might behoove them to have James tag along as well. Merlin knows I could use a bit of peace." Minerva dropped her head into the crook of her elbow and waved away her guests.

The Weasley's, the Malfoy's, and a Potter escaped the Headmistress's quarters before she hexed all of them. They easily traversed the corridors and soon enough they stood before the impressively large entryway.

"James, your mother wouldn't mind if you…" George stopped, instantly wary if only due to the furious blush decorating James Potter's cheeks.

"It's fine, George. Draco and I have had guardianship of him for ages now. We spoke to his mother and step-father and decided it was in all of our best interests." Hermione ruffled the young wizard's hair with obvious affection and a quick peck on the cheek.

"Aunt Hermione is having another Malfoy." James whispered to Lily, not quite as quiet as he thought and it reverberated down the castle corridor.

"Thanks for that James. You might as well have just informed Peeves." Hermione groaned into Draco's lapel, forcing his arms around her.

"Aren't they too old for that?" Lily enquired with an arched ebony eyebrow and a quick glance at the Malfoy's.

"Apparently not. Come on then, I'm famished." James and Lily strode out into the dead of night, arm in arm as if it were something they had always done.

"They adapted quickly now didn't they?" George mused before bending to place a small kiss on his wife's lips.

"James has known for ages. Hermione and I were certain he overheard us discussing it years ago. Lily quite liked the idea of a wizard pining after her and seeing her relationship with James hasn't really changed will do her a world of good. Thank you…for giving us our daughter." Penelope willed her tears to remain in place, offering Draco and Hermione a tremulous smile.

"Aw Pans, she was never really gone."

"I'd rather discuss the impending arrival of another Malfoy…" Draco interjected, still slightly perturbed with his wife, despite the previous events.

"Oh hush, it's not as if I've done it by myself. We've really got to get home. I'm sure your son is pitching a fit."

"Why is he's my son when he's wicked? Leo is a delightful child. In fact, he's the only one to inherit your hair, poor thing, so really you should love him best." Draco winked toward George over Hermione's head with a slow smile.

"You're quite right, Malfoy. Perhaps I'll finally get a Gryffindor out of the lot, though I do hope this next one is a girl." Hermione sighed into his side, suddenly overcome with an almost overwhelming wave of emotion.

Draco sensed her unease, immediately burying his face in her curls, holding her tight. Hermione clung to him desperately, allowing herself to sob until her inner turmoil was finally abated. She wiped her face on his robes and pulled back to look into his familiar grey eyes.

"I love you." Hermione whispered with a quiet sort of desperation. It tugged at Draco's heartstrings and he couldn't help but to kiss her.

"I would never be able to make it without you, Granger, and I'm thankful I didn't have to struggle for too long." Draco sighed, gently stroking her cheek, refusing to entertain the very notion there was a singular tear trailing down his cheek.

"You lot will really have to explain to us what on earth happened…" George hated to interrupt such a tender moment, but his curiosity always did get the best of him.

"Weasley, that's another story for another day." Draco sighed, wrapping both arms around his wife and resting his chin on her head.

"Malfoy, Hermione…you've got to give me something…" George whined despite his wife constantly pulling on his hand.

Hermione lifted her head from the safety of Draco's chest and stared deep into George Weasley's eyes. He swallowed hard, suddenly a bit terrified of the witch. He had always had a healthy respect for her temper and never wished to be on the wrong side of her wand. George suspected he had probably stepped in it, based on the darkening of Hermione's brown eyes and took a step backward.

"George, leave them be. It's been a ridiculously long, emotionally draining sort of day." Penelope pleaded, desperately grasping his hands in hers, attempting to drag him into the night.

"It isn't a long drawn out story, George. It's quite simple really." Hermione blinked slowly, snuggling back into Draco's arms.

"Is it really then? I find it hard to believe everything you've orchestrated was so ridiculously simple you can't even be bothered to tell me." George huffed with the slightest trace of Weasley indignation, which would have made her smile under any other circumstance.

"It wasn't me, it was Draco. He did everything and he did it perfectly. I'm sure I would have been quite proud of him. He's a magnificent wizard." She smiled up at her husband, her heart clenching in her chest when she saw the unadulterated pain in his crystal clear grey eyes.

"Malfoy? Wait, he did all this? Why didn't you do it? I don't understand. You're Hermione Granger…er Malfoy, sorry. You're the witch everyone bombards when they haven't the answers. Why was Draco Malfoy in charge of it all?" George was moments away from losing his temper, but that wasn't his goal.

He didn't want to be angry it was the incredible bouncing ferret that had saved not only his family but also the entire Wizarding World. George Weasley simply wanted the tiniest of morsels to appease his curiosity for the time being before he set out to enjoy his family. His jaw clenched and he couldn't help but feel out of sorts while the Malfoy's held a silent conversation.

Hermione turned toward him slowly, keeping a firm hold on her wizard's arms. Her fingers dug into his forearms and George noticed they never quite stopped touching. An ominous feeling fisted in his chest and his stomach rolled. He was no longer sure he wanted an answer, but it was too late.

"I was dead, of course."


End file.
